Hey, Katniss!
by arlf
Summary: AU about Katniss, Peeta and Gale's "love triangle". Set during present time, with NO Hunger Games. Take on the three's senior high school life. Peeta's POV sometimes mixed with Katniss's. Please review! Rated M for mature language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi! I'm back again, but this time the theme would be sorta, kinda different. Mainly because the genre is friendship/romance, a lighter and more fun fic as opposed to my previous ones which were dark and sad. This would be a story about Katniss, Peeta and Gale's love triangle, set during the present time, in Canada, with no games and no President Snow (hehe). I hope you guys like it and please leave a review, it would be greatly appreciated!

**Hey, Katniss!**

"Peeta, come on buddy wake up! It's your first day of school today!" I remember my dad said. "Come on bud," he shakes my shoulders slightly. I opened my eyes and saw the blinds have been opened. The sun was blinding my eyes. I groaned and closed them shut again. My father laughed. "Come on, you'll be late for school."

"I don't wanna go, daddy!" I remember saying in my muffled little seven-year old voice. I really didn't, I mean, what was the point of going to school anyway, right? I just wanted to play around with my friends and go home in the afternoon all sweaty and "icky", as my mom would say.

"Wake up or there will be no Disneyland this year for you, young man." I woke up at his statement and stared at him questioningly. He nods yes, as if in affirmation to his words.

"Okay," I grumbled awake as my dad scooped me up from my bed and brought me to the bathroom.

"Take your shirt off, bud." He said. I did.

"Daddy, why do kids have to go to school?" I asked him as he turned on the shower and washed me off, I really didn't get why we do.

"To learn things," he just said simply.

"What things? Why? Can't you teach us those things?" My string of questions has taken him slightly aback and he laughed.

"Well, things like Science and English and Math," he said. I nodded slightly, my brows creased. "You see son, me and mommy can't teach you all those stuff," he continued. "Maybe some, but not all of it, that's why there are teachers. They teach you the stuff we don't know about in school."

"Oh," I muttered.

"Yes," he said. "Now, go wipe yourself off and I'll help you get changed. Go on, it's getting late."

"Okay, dad," I said as I ran to my room to grab a towel and wipe the water trickling from my body. "Dad, I'm finished!"

"Okay!" He shouted from the other room. He ran to my room holding an ironed outfit. My school clothes. He held them up and showed me the clothes. I looked at them in astonishment. He picked up a baby blue long-sleeved polo and denim pair of pants. "So?" He asked.

I beamed at him, giving him the biggest smile I could ever do. I really liked the outfit, mainly because blue is my favorite color. _I can't wait to go to school_, I remember thinking. "I like it, dad," I said and hugged him. He laughed and hugged me back.

Dad helped me put my clothes on, and as we finished, I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled at how handsome I looked. (Ha! Ha! Yes, I did go there). My dad looked at me too and smiled brightly.

"Come on, let's go eat some breakfast."

"Okay."

We both ate our breakfast rather quickly, as I was excited to go to school then. I brushed my teeth and went straight to our car, without kissing my mom goodbye. It's like she minded if I didn't, anyway, she was always tired. I don't blame her.

Oh, right. I forgot to tell you about my family. You see, my mom's a stock broker, and my dad manages our family bakery. I'm their youngest son, my name's Peeta. Peeta Mellark. I have two older brothers, Bryce and Nicollo. Bryce is three years older than me, and Nicollo is five years older. We're just like a regular family, with occasional arguments here and there. But that's what makes a family stronger, right? Anyway—

Okay, wow. I'm getting sidetracked. Focus, Peeta, focus. Okay.

Now, back to the story...

My dad and I got to my school. I was wowed by how big it was. I looked around, trying to take it all in. I was too overwhelmed. I saw little kids running around with their friends at the playground, while some were just sitting by the swings. My dad squeezed my shoulders reassuringly, "Are you ready?" I remember him asking me.

"Yeah, dad." I say.

And then I saw her.

She has olive skin. She was wearing a red jumpsuit with two brown braids running down her back. She was holding a woman's hand, most probably her mom's. I think I stared at her longer than I could have intended, because then my dad held my hand and squeezed it lightly. He was laughing. He always laughs. And I knew the reason why.

"Got your eye on some girl, buddy?" He chuckled.

I blushed and it made him laugh even harder.

"Come on, let's go get you to your room. Who knows, she might even be in your class, right?" He winked. I nodded and smiled at the thought.

I got to my room, and it turns out my dad was right. She was in my class—my music assembly class. My dad hugged me and told me _Good luck, kiddo, I'll pick you up after school okay? Here's your lunch. _I took my seat as the school bell was about to ring. This is it. My first day in elementary school.

The bell rang and our teacher, Ms. Trinkett, introduced herself to the class. She had on a neon pink blazer that hurt my eyes and black dress pants. She had blonde hair like me.

"Welcome, welcome!" She said enthusiastically, her hands held out to the class. Her voice was weird and pitchy it rang on my ear, and her accent was—to put it more lightly—unique. "My name is Miss Effie Trinkett," she said as she was writing her name on the whiteboard, "and I will be your music assembly teacher." She faced us, her big grin still plastered on her face. "Let's introduce ourselves, shall we?" My class nodded silently in assent. "Okay, ladies first!"

All the girls from each row stood in front of the class and introduced themselves. Only a couple of them got my attention. The bubbly Delly Cartwright and the shy Madge Undersee. That was basically it. The other girls didn't really make an impression on me. But the person who got most of my attention was the girl in the red jumpsuit. That was the first time I actually saw her face closely, and I studied it keenly. I was lucky to have seen her that close because I was seated in the middle first column. She has deep brown eyes, just like her hair. And when she spoke, it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in the entire world. And I am _not_ exaggerating when I say that.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen, I'm seven years old."

_Her name is Katniss Everdeen. She is seven years old. _I remember repeating her statement in my mind. _Katniss Everdeen. Seven years old._

I repeated her statement until the girls' turn was over, and it was the boys' turn. The first boy who stood up in class was Cato Hedley, my buddy. Up next was Marvel Smith, another buddy of mine. And the boys went on and on until it was my turn. I stood in front of the class awkwardly, too shy to say anything. But then I saw with my peripheral vision that Katniss was looking at me. My body tensed and I think I blushed that time. I don't know, I don't really remember.

Ms. Trinkett cleared her throat. Oh, right. I was supposed to introduce myself. I stood there and tried to muster up the courage to speak, and when I did, my voice was clear. No hint of nervousness.

"My name is Peeta Mellark, I am seven years old." I said and walked back to my chair feeling confident.

The introductions finally ended, and the class was about to begin. Ms. Trinkett gave us a piece of paper to give to our parents; I don't remember what it was.

"Okay," she sighed as she handed us the letters, "this paper is for your parents. You have to give it to them when you get home. Understood?" She asked. We nodded. Because that was the only thing we knew we had to do that time, nod. "Alrighty," she said, clapping her hands. "First off, we need to have a class song; after all, this is music assembly class, right?" Another nod from the class. "Okay, who knows the valley song?" Everybody in my class was looking around the room, hoping someone would volunteer. I was, too.

And someone did. Her hand shot straight up into the air, waving it enthusiastically, jumping up and down her seat, her braids bobbing along.

It was Katniss.

"Okay, Katniss, come on up!" Ms. Trinkett said. Katniss happily obliged and stood up in front. "Sshh, silence please," Ms. Trinkett hushed, trying to quiet down the small chatter in our class. "Let's listen to Katniss."

Katniss cleared her throat and looked at the class. She started singing, and I was mesmerized. Her voice is so beautiful—no, amazing—no, perfect. Ah, no words can describe how her voice sounded like, it was so angelic, and I think even the birds outside of our room stopped chirping to listen to her singing.

When she finished singing, everybody, even Ms. Trinkett applauded Katniss' performance. It was so beautiful; really, it would be a crime not to applaud her. She sat back down at her seat, happily smiling at all of us—wait no, at _me._ She was staring at me and I felt my cheeks burned bright red. _Oh my golly. She's staring at me._

Ms. Trinkett hushed us when the cheers were getting a bit loud for her liking, and we all sat down properly.

That was the first time I developed a crush on a girl. And her name is Katniss Everdeen.

To be honest, I still do have a massive crush on her. Even though it had been ten years since that first interaction.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, since a lot of people have left many positive feedbacks (i.e. story alerts, favorites, and reviews), I decided to post a chapter tonight. This is only going to be kind of like a filler, though. Tomorrow, hopefully, I will post another one. In the meantime, here's a chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it and please leave a review! Thanks!

**Present Time...**

I'm startled awake by my phone's buzz. I ignore it, but a couple of minutes later it buzzes again. _What do you want? _I think. I try to fumble for my phone in the nightstand, just wanting to end the buzzing sound. It is doing it continuously now, and I don't have any choice but to wake up and look for my phone. I turn on my lamp and look at the clock beside it. The LED lights read 5:34 am, _ugh too early. _And the date 21/04/2012. The date looks oddly familiar, as if something special is happening today. My tired brain tries to conjure what it means when I realize one thing:

It's my eighteenth birthday today.

_Oh, that explains my phone's continuous buzzing._

I chuckle and look through the long line of messages on my phone.

_Cato: Happy birthday, bud! Time to hit the bar! Ha._

_ Marvel: Brooo you're 18! Wanna go get drinks with Cato tonight?_

Of course, my two best buddies would be the first ones to greet me. Hah they're crazy. But I'm thankful for them; they're like my brothers from another mother. Been best friends since five years old.

The third message almost makes me puke.

_ Johanna: Happy birthday bad boy! Wanna have fun tonight? Hmu ;) xo_

Eugh. I mean, yes I _really _like women, but Johanna Mason is an exemption. She got laid by almost every single male athlete in our school, except for me, of course. And with that fact, I would never want to touch Johanna Mason. Ever.

Right, I forgot to tell you some new things about me. I'm a part of my school's varsity basketball and wrestling team. Now I know that sounds a bit jocky, but I still prioritize my studies over sports. Cheesy but it's true. 3.4 GPA right here, bro.

I'm a senior now, too.

Anyway, I continue skimming through my messages.

_Delly: Happy birthday bff! Have fun tonight, but not too much, lol. Love ya. _

Ah, Delly. She's my best friend now, by the way. We almost always have the same classes together, even way back in first grade. She has a great personality and a great sense of humor. Who wouldn't love that in a best friend, right? Yeah, I thought so.

_Finnick: Happy birthday, chap. Have fun and don't go apeshit tonight. Cheers!_

Finnick Odair. How do I even describe this fellow? Well for starters he is British, as in he- was-born-and-raised-in-England British, not born-and-raised-in-Canada-by-British-parents British. He is an exchange student. I don't know the kid he swapped places with. He has blue pair of eyes, just like mine, and bronze hair. Almost all the girls swooned over him when he first got to school. Still do, actually. Poor lad couldn't even go to the cafeteria without being hogged by a crazy group of girls. One time, me and the boys saw what he was going through, and we decided to help. We let him in our group and honestly, he isn't all that bad. He's our buddy now.

The next message sends a rage of fury through me.

_Gay-le: Heard it's your birthday. Hanging out with your little group of friends for a little sleepover tonight? LOL. Have fun asshole._

Gale fucking Hawthorne. That son of a bitch. He's dating Katniss now. The asshole stole my girl away from me. He's also the captain of our football team. Our good-for-nothing, goody-two-shoes football team. Our school never won a championship under his lead, mainly because he was being an ass and taking the ball all to himself. I wonder why their coach didn't give him hell for it. He deserves it.

I quickly delete his message and continue skimming through when I stop suddenly. The next message I received was from Katniss.

_Katniss: Happy birthday, nerd. Have fun tonight! Xo_

I feel a huge grin creeping on my face and can feel my insides warm up. Suddenly, all the anger built up in me caused by Gale has vanished. Katniss, Katniss. I don't know what kind of spell she cast on me when we were kids, but it still seems to be working, even after te- no, eleven years. She still looks so beautiful, her olive skin complementing her brown eyes. She doesn't braid her hair anymore, but it's alright because I prefer her hair hung loose. She's prettier that way. Only when she's cheering is the time she ties her hair up. She's our school's lead cheerleader now. Lucky for me, I got to see her every game strutting her stuff. Just seeing her in our games boosted my adrenaline. Maybe it's the reason why we won almost every game we had. Our season record is 17-3. But our next game's going to be intense, as we're heading to the provincial championships. It's alright, though; Katniss is going to be there. She'll be my lucky charm.

I quickly glance over at the clock and it now reads 6:00 am. I put my phone back on the nightstand as I'm contemplating whether or not I should go back to sleep. Hmm wow, I just turned eighteen and now I'm faced with a huge dilemma...

Ah screw it, I'm going back to sleep. After all, it is our last day of school before spring break.

I snap awake once again, but this time it is not because of my phone's non-stop buzzing, but rather because of an icy-cold bucket of water splashed over my whole body. My idiot brothers thought it was funny to do it, supposedly because "You're a man now, dumbass!" They said and are literally on the floor laughing at my state. "You should've seen your face!" Bryce says in-between loud fits of laughter, pointing at my contorted expression. I just glare at him. My act only makes my two idiot brothers laugh harder. _Yeah, I love both of you too, ya jerks._

"It's not funny, you dumbasses," I punch them both as I get up from my wet bed and motion to the bathroom. "What time is it?" I yell from across the hall.

"8:15, don't worry you still have plenty of time to fix yourself for Katniss!" Nicollo yells back. _Very funny, Nick. She has a boyfriend for crying out loud. And he's twice as big as me. _I sigh and shake my head slightly to clear the thought off my mind. _This is your day Peeta, don't even think about that douchebag airhead who does nothing but to stare at himself in the mirror. _I chuckle at my thoughts. Is this the effect of being an eighteen-year old? I certainly hope not. This goes on and I would most certainly turn crazy.

I finish freshening up and go downstairs to eat my breakfast. Surprisingly, my mom is at the table, which is now filled with food. _Huh. Can every day be my birthday? _I plop myself down at my usual spot, across from Bryce, who is now looking at me funny. "Yeah. Go on, laugh and I'm gonna kick your ass." I say through gritted teeth. I am genuinely annoyed at him, no at them, Nicollo included.

"What's wrong, son?" My dad asks.

"They splashed a cold bucket of water over me while I was asleep." I say.

"Wha-, it was a good way to wake you up. You know, welcome you to being eighteen?" Nicollo teases. I curl my right fist in a ball. They are going way too far with this shit.

"Peeta, honey, calm down," my mom says, holding my balled-up fist. I let them loose. "Bry, Nick, after you finish eating your breakfast, freshen up and go grocery shopping, will you?" She tells them in a serious tone. They both groan in frustration as they stand up and I laugh at their agony. _Ah, revenge indeed is sweet. _

"Thanks, mom," I say, standing up now. "I'm just gonna go brush my teeth and then I'll go."

"Okay, sweetie," she says, kissing my cheeks. "Happy eighteenth birthday," she whispers in my ear as she hands something to me. An envelope. No, a small box. I stare at her questioningly. "You'll see," she says. I stare at my dad, but he just nods, a small smile forming on the corner of his lips.

"Can I open it now?" I ask no one in particular, looking back and forth at my mom and dad.

"I think it's better if you open it after you brush," dad says.

"Yeah, I think so too," my mom nods and agrees.

"Alright," I say, smiling. I put the small box on the table. "I'll be right back," I tell my parents.

"Don't take too long!" My dad shouts.

"Oh, I won't," I chuckle. I'm excited now, too eager to know what is inside the box. I brush my teeth quickly and clumsily. I jog back to the dining table, which is now clear of dishes. "Wow mom," I say. "Aren't you tired? Come on, go take a nap or something. Rest," I continue because I really don't want her to work herself up too much.

"No, no, Peeta, I'm fine," she says. I nod okay. "Now, how about that gift we were talking about?" She winks and gives me the box. I look at it intently. It looks like a jewelry box, a ring box specifically, but is an inch wider. I shake it, but no sound emanates. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!" My mom says excitedly, clapping her hands. My brothers join us now, too. Both of them too eager to know what is inside the box.

I open the box a little too carefully, and when I open it fully, I could feel the tears actually trickle from my eyes. Even my brothers are shocked at the content.

"Are you serious?" I ask my mom who is now enveloped in my tight hug. She breaks from the hug first and holds my face. She nods. Another wave of tears. _Good heavens I most certainly do not want to go to school looking like a drama queen. _I wipe my tears off with the sleeve of my shirt, hoping my eyes aren't red and puffy yet.

My brothers are laughing and slapping my back. And a bit too forcefully, I must add. "Come on then, let's go outside!" Bryce exclaims, pushing me to the door. He opens it, and the sight that welcomes me is beautiful.

My parents got me a _brand new _car. A 2012 Mustang convertible.

My brothers and I run to my car and hop into the seats, taking a feel of everything it has to offer. I take the key out of the box, and just then I notice that it is a push-button start. I start the car, and the silent purr of the engine relaxes me. "This is so awesome!" I shout. My parents and brothers are smiling at me like idiots.

Mom and dad walks up to the driver's side, "Do you like it, bud?" Dad asks. I open my door and lunge myself to them and hug them tightly.

"Like it? I freaking LOVE IT! Thanks mom, dad."

They both laugh. "We were hoping you would, because that would be the car you'd be using to go to university," my mom says. I stare at her. "Oh right," she says, slapping her forehead with her palm. "I forgot to tell you, you got admitted to McGill, we got the letter from the mail just yesterday," she continues, holding up my acceptance letter. I grab it from her grasp and look at it closely, making sure that what I just heard was right. And she was, my mom was right. I did get admitted to McGill. I try my best to stop the tears from falling, but I can't. I've had way too many surprises I dealt with already, and my day's only starting. I hug both my parents again, this time a little too tightly and kiss them, before I hop in my car to drive to school.

With my brand new car.

_Oh this day is going to be very good, _I think. Oh, it really will, Peeta Mellark.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here it is, as promised, the next part to _Hey, Katniss! _I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

_Girl I want you to know, I can't get you out of my head, my head my head,_

_ Girl I want you to know, I don't even know what you did, you did, you did,_

_ But I like it..._

Lupe Fiasco's song is booming through my speakers as I drive to school. This one song explains pretty much everything about how I feel about Katniss. How appropriate, huh? Music does have its own way of creeping into your mind and taking the words out of your mouth.

On my way, I decide to offer Cato, Marvel and Finnick a ride to school. Finnick, being only lived two blocks away from me, will be the first one to see my car. I park in front of their house, careful, oh so careful that I may not scratch my bumper. _Wouldn't want that to happen anytime soon. _I honk the horn three times, but no one comes out of the house. I call him up and tell him to come down. After three rings, he picks his phone up. "Hey Finn, want a ride to school? I ask.

"Yeah sure, I'll be right down there in a jiffy," he says.

_Jiffy. British slangs are hilarious._

"Alright hurry up then, we'll be late."

"I'm coming," he says, obviously annoyed, and he hangs up the phone.

When he gets out from his house and sees my car, his jaw drops. He stays that way for a few more seconds before closing his mouth shut. He is really surprised about my having a car as he runs his way to the passenger's side shouting, "shotgun!" _What a kid. _When he gets in my car, though, is the time he bursts out his excitement. He starts shooting me a million questions per minute.

"What the bloody hell is this? When did you buy this? How much is it? Is this yours, like for real? Can I borrow it? Does Cato and Marvel know? How about Katniss? Damn bro!"

"Woah buddy, slow down with the questions, will ya?" I say. "I'll tell you everything about it when we get to school, you don't wanna distract the driver now, do you?" I ask.

"Alright," he says, and buckles his seatbelt.

We make our way to Cato's house next, and his reaction is the same as Finnick. The only difference between their expressions was Cato's profane exclamation. I can't stop laughing at my buddies' expressions. Both were priceless. "What the fuck is this, Peet?" Cato asks intriguingly, his eyebrows raised all the way up.

"It's my car," I finally say after calming myself down. "Parents' birthday gift. You guys like it?"

"Like it? Bollocks, we love it! Your parents must've saved an awful lot of ackers for this car." Finnick cheers. Cato can't do anything but to nod and agree with Finn's answer.

"An awful lot of what?" I ask.

"Ackers. As in money," Finnick answers. _Oh._

"Yeah, that's what I told my mom and dad, too!" I bob my head up and down. I'm too giddy today. I feel like a kid again. "Somebody better call Marvel, tell him to come down so we won't be late for school today." I tell no one in particular. I check the time and see 9:00 blinking on the clock. _Still plenty of time left. _My classes don't start until 9:30, unless of course if it's days three and five then I have to be at school by 9 am sharp for gym class. Mr. Abernathy, our gym teacher, would go ballistic if we didn't get to class in time. "By the way, what school day is it?"

"Today?" Finnick asks.

"Yeah, today," I reply.

"Oh, uh, I believe it's day five," Finnick replies back sheepishly.

"Oh, okay... Wait what? Day five? Shit!" I shout.

"What? What's wrong?" Cato asks.

"Dude, it's 9:05!"

"So? Our classes don't start unti—"And then he realizes it. "Oh...shit," he says slowly. I look in the rear view mirror and see his eyes widened in realization. I mimic his expression and open my mouth slightly. Finnick looks at us like we're both maniacs or something when suddenly, Cato starts laughing hysterically. I join him too, while Finnick just sighs and shakes his head as if thinking, _what have I gotten myself into? _

I drive to Marvel's house a little faster now. I honk multiple times impatiently until he comes out of their house. And again, the same reaction was shown when he saw my car. I rush him to get into the car as we are running really late to school. No more time to spare.

It took us three more minutes to get to our school, and another five minutes to find a decent parking spot. It is now 9:15. _Great, now we're dead ass meat, _I think_. _The three of us, Marvel, Cato and I, bolt our way to the gym washroom, while Finnick goes to his English class. We reach the washroom, and we change into our gym clothes. It was a very good decision to wear sweats today.

We enter the gymnasium, and with the sound of the door opening, twenty five pairs of eyes are trained to us. Including Katniss'. I could feel the blood from my cheeks drain quickly as she stares at me. I avert my gaze at her and stare at the wooden floor.

Mr. Abernathy clears his throat. "Where have you boys been?" He asks.

Nobody answers.

"I said," Mr. Abernathy says louder, a hint of anger in his voice. "Where have you boys been?"

Now I answer meekly, "Home, sir."

"Excuse me?" Mr. Abernathy asks, walking towards me now. I'm getting more and more nervous by the second.

"We came from our houses, sir," I say, still staring down the floor.

"Ah. And, um, do you know, by any chance, what school day it is today?"

"Honestly, sir? I didn't know until I asked my friend on the way to school."

"And who might this friend be?"

"Finnick Odair, sir."

"Hm. So you didn't even bother looking at your school calendar to check the day, I assume?"

"I forg—"

"You have to thank your friend because if it weren't for him you wouldn't have made it to class today. And we all know what that means, right?" He asks the class. They nod. "It means it goes to your permanent record!" He says cheerily to the class and then turns to face us, his expression changed. He's mad. I don't get why he's making such a big deal out of this. We've never been late to class before. This is our first time.

"We understand, sir," I say quietly.

"Damn right you better! Now drop down and do a hundred!"

"Sir?" I ask, unsure of his request.

"I said, drop down and do a hundred. You know, a hundred push-ups?" He says. "Does being late to class affect your hearing?" He asks the group and it makes them laugh. _No, it's not because of that. It's because your damn voice is so loud it makes my ears go fucking deaf. _This teacher is pushing me to my fucking limit.

Just as the three of us drop down and do the push-ups, the doors slam open. I look at it and see two huge people walking towards our group. Ah. No wonder the class wasn't loud when we entered today; no arrogant, cocky voice was surrounding the gym. He's late too. I look at Abernathy and see his expression turn to stone as Gale walks toward him, a piece of paper in his hand. _Oh this is going to be good._

"Sorry, sir. Got caught in traffic." Gale says.

Mr. Abernathy unfolds the paper and reads its contents. His eyes widen. He clears his throat. "You're excused, Hawthorne."

I'm shocked. Is_ he fucking serious? He's excused just because he was stuck in traffic? What the fuck?_

"Sir!" I protest. "Sir, why did you excuse him? That wasn't a valid reason."

"He has a note, Mellark."

"A note? For what? Does he even know he'd be stuck in traffic? It's not even rush hour anymore!"

"At least he was smart about doing it and thought it through rather than doing anything stupid like sleeping in!" His voice is enraged.

"Sir, sir, careful, your blood pressure might shoot up," Gale says, soothing his back and pretending to care about Abernathy. He seems to calm a little.

"I'm alright, thanks Hawthorne."

"No problem, sir," he says. "You," he points at me, "get out of this room," he orders sternly. _Why the fuck would I?_

"What the fuck do you care, Hawthorne? You're not the fucking boss of me!" I shout at him, mad now. "Don't fucking pretend like you care about him just because you're failing this class. The easiest class ever in high school!"

Small gasps fill the room as I said that statement. I don't regret saying it. If the whole school doesn't know yet, then it's better to start with our class. He needs to be put to shame. This douchebag.

He is up now, clearly enraged and ready to lunge at me when Katniss shouts "stop it!" He doesn't stop, though, as he runs to me, landing a perfect blow to my face. The people around us don't move. And I don't budge; I just stand there and take all of his punches in.

"You're fucking weak," I finally say after he manages to land five punches at me. It was a lie, though, it was the complete opposite. His punches were solid. I'm surprised I didn't drop dead yet. _Probably because of wrestler's stamina._ I spit blood dripping from my mouth and wipe it with the sleeve of my shirt.

"What did you fucking say?" He asks.

"I said, you're _fucking_ weak," I say through gritted teeth, elaborating the word fucking.

What I said takes him aback and he calls for two guys to stand by each of his sides. He whispers something to them. They nod. _What are you going to do now, Hawthorne? Too scared to face me alone? Hah. _

I look around the room to see my two buddies walking up to me, ready to fight Gale's posse off but I stop them. It's not worth it to fight them back. "It's alright, Cato, we wouldn't want to stoop down to their level," I say loudly and clearly. They nod in agreement and turn back to where they were standing before when all of a sudden, the two guys Gale called were running towards me, clipping both of my hands in their grasp. Cato and Marvel runs to them but I yell at them to stop. I don't want them in on any of this. They stop, looking around for someone to tell what was happening. Abernathy is of no use, he's sitting at the bench, can barely even speak. For a moment I'm worried. _What if he's having a heart attack? _I look at him again and see his breathing is steadily going back to normal. I heave a sigh of relief. Cato and Marvel are running to him now.

Mr. Abernathy regains his energy back, and is now running towards his office, probably to call for other staff members to break our fight. Of course we all know he can't do it alone. Three football players versus one middle-aged gym teacher won't be a remotely fair fight.

Gale didn't see what Mr. Abernathy did, probably didn't even notice him watching this whole thing. He was so focused at beating me up. "You shouldn't have done what you did, Mellark," he says, smiling mischievously as he walks his way to me.

The next thing he does takes me by surprise. I thought he is going to land a punch in my face again. Instead, he lands a power punch squarely in my chest.

It was solid. His punch was solid. I could feel my legs turn jelly, heart beats more slowly, my vision blackening. I drop to the floor and could hear Cato and Marvel shouting my name, shaking my shoulders to keep me awake. Someone else is also shouting my name, telling me to wake up; a girl's voice. I recognize it at once. That beautiful voice is all too familiar to me. It is Katniss'.

And then I fall into unconsciousness.

* * *

The next time I open my eyes I am at the hospital. I look around my room and see no one. _Probably talking to the doctor. _I sit up painfully in my bed, looking for my phone. It is on the table across from me. I stand up, using my IV pole to help me stay up. But this action makes me dizzy, not worth trying, so I lie back down again.

I am about to close my eyes to take a quick nap when somebody opens the door and comes in my room. I open my eyes and see my mom, dad and brothers walking to me. My mom looks tired. I look at her apologetically. "Mom, I'm sorry," I say, my voice hoarse.

"Don't be, sweetie," she says, stroking the hair back from my forehead. "You did the right thing, you didn't fight back." She smiles.

"How did you know?"

"Cato and Marvel told us everything. They're outside. Even Finnick. There's a girl with them, too."

"A girl?" I ask.

"Katniss," Bryce says.

"Oh." I clear my throat. "Can I talk to them? Privately?"

My mom nods and they all step out of my room. Moments later, Cato, Marvel, Finn and Katniss enter.

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?" Marvel asks, a small smile curled up in his lips.

"Like a million ackers," I joke, looking at Finnick who smiles at my used slang.

"That's good," Cato butts in. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Much, much better. How are you guys?" I beam at them. They frown. "What's up?"

"See, you kind of died, chap." Finn says. _Oh. That's...tragic. _"And we're still in a state of shock, kind of."

"Well I'm alive! You guys better cheer up! Come on, it's my birthday!"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Katniss asks. _Well that was...unexpected._

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to all of you!" They smile. "There you go! Come on, I'm fine, really. Just a small headache but other than that I'm fine! Cheer up!" I can't believe I'm the one doing all the cheering up stuff when I should be doing the exact opposite.

My buddies walk up to my bedside, leaving Katniss who is seated firmly at the sofa. I look at her and she averts my gaze. _Come on, please talk._

"What time is it?" I ask.

"7:50," Cato says.

"Oh. Okay."

"Yeah. Oh that reminds me, the Stanley cup playoffs are on tonight, right?" Cato asks Marvel. Marvel nods.

"Who's playing?" Finn asks Cato.

"Rangers and Caps," Marvel answers him.

"Hey buddy, do you mind if we watch the game on your TV?" Cato asks me.

I stare at him. "Who are you?" I ask. They all look at me startled. Even Katniss looked up from her gaze.

"What do you mean who am I? Bro it's Cato. Cato Hedley? Your best friend? What the hell just happened?"

"What? Wait who are you?"

"Cato! We were talking to you just now and you were perfectly fine!" Cato exclaims. Katniss is by my bedside now, too.

"Are you my girlfriend?" I ask her.

"Uh, um...no, I'm not, I'm just a friend," she stammers. "Peeta, you do remember Marvel, right?"

"Who?"

"Me! Marvel! I'm Marvel! I'm your buddy too!"

"Oh." I say. "Hi, Marvel. My name's Erik," I continue, offering my hand for a shake.

Their mouths open, genuinely looking scared now. Katniss sits back down on the sofa, looking shocked.

"No. No chap, your name isn't Erik. It's Peeta. Your name's Peeta. Peeta Mellark." Finn says, worried.

I can't stop suppressing my smile now, as I let out a loud guffaw. They all look at me confused. "I'm sorry," I say. "I was kidding, I was kidding." I'm laughing so hard now, my head is throbbing. "Whoo you should've seen your guys' faces!" I exclaim.

"Oh you clever son of a bitch!" Cato punches my arm lightly, laughing now too. Marvel and Finnick join in on the laughter moments later. Only one person doesn't.

"Katniss," I start, still laughing.

"Don't fucking talk to me, you jerk!" She shouts as she stands up and walks out the door, slamming it behind her.

"What did I do?" I ask when she got out. Marvel and Cato just shrug.

"Maybe she was mad because you faked your memory loss episode," Finn answers. Finnick Odair is always the voice of reason in our group.

I usually don't listen to his explanations, but this got me thinking. "I was only kidding," I say.

"It might seem funny to us, but it wasn't funny to her," Finn explains.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I did take things too far with this joke. _Ugh Peeta. You always screw things up with her! _"What should I do?"

"Call her," Marvel says.

I bite my lip, thinking if this is a good idea to start.

"Alright, give me my phone," I finally tell Cato. He hands it to me.

I don't think twice as I punch in Katniss' number on my phone's keypad.

_Here's to hoping she answers._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Here's the next chapter! I am so sorry I kept you guys waiting; school has been fairly busy as summer is fast approaching and projects are tossed to us from here and there. But here it is! Katniss won't be in this chapter though, just Peeta and his brothers. I hope you guys enjoy! (And please leave a review, heh.)

* * *

I am finally admitted out of the hospital after three long days but our family doctor, Dr. Aurelius, advised me to stay home for two more days because of my mild concussion - a result of Gale's heavy punches to different parts of my now beat-up face. I oblige, I really don't want to go anywhere else other than home yet. Not with this face. Thankfully it's already spring break. School has been a drag lately. _It needs to be June already._

Oh, before I almost forget, I still need to call Katniss. She hasn't answered any of my calls since I joked about having a memory lapse. I don't know why it ticked her off that much, I was only having fun. The tension in my room was too much that day—probably because of the fact that I died and then came back from the dead—that I needed to lighten up the mood. I understand how they felt, though. I would be traumatized too if I see any of my best buddies die in front of me.

I take my phone out of my pants pocket and dial in Katniss' number. I wait for it to ring and after a few moments it does. Ring. _One. Maybe I should stop calling her. _Ring. _Two. Ah who cares? I need to talk to her about...stuff. _Ring. _Three. Come on, answer your damn phone damn it! _Ring. _Four. _And it goes straight to voicemail. _Hi, it's Katniss. I can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message if you want and I'll call you right back! _Ugh. I've already called her ten times with no response, might as well leave her a message now. She better call me back. "Hey Katniss, it's me, Peeta...uh, look, I'm sorry about before. I-I don't know what to say... but I'm sorry if I did anything or say anything wrong. Please, please, please just talk to me. Please. Uh...yeah. I'm so sorry. And, um, bye." And then I hang up my phone. _That should do it for now I hope._

I'm still sat down at the edge of my hospital bed when finally, after an hour long wait, my parents _finally_ get to sign the papers to admit me out of my confinement. I request for a wheelchair because I can't even stand up without getting lightheaded. _Stupid concussion._ Nicollo volunteers to wheel me out of the hospital and carries me into his car. It is sunny outside, so I cup my hands above my eyes for shade, it helps. But it is also incredibly chilly. _And I thought it was spring already._

Mom and dad stay behind for a physical check-up with Dr. Aurelius.

"Thanks man," I say.

"Hey, don't get used to this alright?" He jokes.

"Trust me, I won't," I chuckle. He pats my shoulder.

"Alright. You ready?"

"Hell yeah. I would've gone out yesterday! I felt better! And I can't stand hospital food, it's disgusting!"

"Sure. Says the one who ate all the jell-o and needed to get wheeled out of the hospital."

"Hey, I—"_Oh. _He's right. I did eat all of the jell-o, but that was it.

"Hah! See?"

"Whatever. Let's go home," I mutter in annoyance. "Wait, where's my car?" I remember it being left at school after the 'brawl', as I'd like to call it.

"Oh Bryce drove it home a while ago." And by "a while ago" he literally means like six, seven hours ago._ "_Douche snatched the keys from your bag after you got rolled in to emergency. Only took it home this afternoon. Says he was lazy. That lazy ass." And then he mutters something inaudible under his breath.

"Oh. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay! I wanted to drive it too!" I stare at him and can't help but chuckle at his displeasure. He narrows his eyes and just glares at me.

"You'll get your turn soon, don't worry. Besides, you have this car." I say, tapping his car's dashboard. It's not a bad car really. It's a Chevy pick-up.

"Yup, been with me for three years now," he smiles. "But I will hold on to that promise though," he says. _Oh great._

"What promise Nick?" I ask, all too innocently. He grins at me and says:

"Oh don't you give me that bullshit, Peeta."

I laugh, the action making my head throb.

I just really wish this concussion goes away and _stays away._

"I'm just kidding, of course you would."

"That a boy," he says, ruffling my hair with his right hand as he steers the wheel with his left. "Now go to sleep, ya moron, it'll be a pretty long ride," he suggests.

"How long?" I ask. We live around the perimeter of the city, and I've never been to the city's downtown hospital before (my parents requested to move me to the downtown hospital since the doctors in the hospital near our place apparently "aren't that good", my mom says, and plus, Dr. Aurelius is based here now), so I really don't know how long I get to rest before we get home.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes tops. Don't worry, I won't leave you in the car again when we get home, you're smarter than that now, and older, too," he winks. Wow, he's been nothing but nice to me today. That's a first. I hope Bryce acts the same way too; after all, he did use my car.

"Alright," I reply. I lazily try to feel for the lever that reclines my seat but I can't find it. "How the hell do you recline this thing?"

"Right side."

"I looked for it, but I can't find it!"

He sighs as he pulls over the sidewalk and gets out of the car. He walks over to my side and he opens the door. "Right...here," he says, pulling the lever up below my seat. He adjusts it until I say it's okay.

"Thanks. I didn't know it was there."

"It's 'cause you didn't look for it."

"I did."

"Maybe you did, but not careful enough," he winks again. "Now go take a rest. I'll wake you up when we get home."

He sounds just like dad, his voice soft and his demeanor...caring. Well he should, since he's the oldest, I suppose. It's in his job description. But I've never, in my whole life, (eighteen years of existence) heard him talk like that, let alone seen him act like that. I don't know it just feels so...strange. Nicollo was always one with jokes and pranks, and Bryce and I got along well with it, but this looking-after-his-brothers kind of attitude feels...refreshing.

Well, there's always a first time for everything, as they say.

I settle in my seat comfortably and I drift off to sleep right after "Never Too Late" by Hedley starts playing on the radio. Just then I realize how tired I am. My head still hurts. _Ugh._ _Go. Away._

* * *

"Peet? Peet, come on wake up. We're home," Nicollo wakes me up as he shakes my shoulders lightly. "Come on bud, we're home."

I flutter my eyelids open and groan in answer. "What?" I mumble.

"We're home."

"Oh. Okay. Give me a few minutes," I say.

"You want me to walk you inside?" He replies, a hint of concern in his voice.

"No, no. I'm good, thanks."

"Alright." Nicollo says as he walks into our house.

I give myself a few more minutes to fully wake up and walk my way to the house. I'm feeling much better now than I did when Nicollo wheeled me out of the hospital. No more feelings of nausea. _Finally._

As I walk into the house, I head straight to the kitchen, desperate to look for homemade food, but there's nothing. I look in the pantry to find some kind of soup, but there's nothing as well. Only cereal. I sigh. My last resort is the fridge, where I find a gallon of milk and other stuff like vegetables and fruits. I decide to eat cereals with milk. It's much better than hospital food, anyway.

I check my phone to see if Katniss called me back. _Slim chance, _I think. I look at it and see no one, even Cato, Marvel and Finnick, bothered to contact me. _Thought so. _I shake my head and continue eating my cereal. I never fully appreciated the taste of cereal until now. _Huh. _

Like I said, there's always a first time for everything.

I'm finishing my bowl when Nicollo walks to the kitchen, all dressed up in his scrubs. "Headed to work?" I ask.

"Not till six," he replies.

I glance at the clock to check what time it is. It's 5:10 pm.

"Why change so early? Excited to go to work?" I tease. Nicollo works at our nearby hospital as a nurse. We were surprised when he passed the board exam for being a registered nurse. It's not that he isn't smart though, he really is, and it's just that he is-or _was_ a lazy ass. Now he works his butt off every time. When asked why, he always says _so I could buy a house to get away from you guys. _We all know it is only a joke though. There's no way in hell he would do that any time soon, what with all the free food and shelter? I doubt it.

He chuckles at my question. "Nah, I just didn't want to rush to change."

"Alright, whatever you say," I reply as I make my way to the sink to wash my dirty dish.

We stay silent for a few minutes. When it becomes awkward, I clear my throat and initiate the conversation. "Thanks man, really."

He stares at me. "For what?"

"Bringing me home when I would've waited for mom and dad to do it."

He snorts. "Dude, it's nothing, alright? You're my younger brother; it's in my job description."

I chuckle and nod. "Okay."

Another awkward silence. But Nicollo begins the conversation this time.

"You know, when I saw you being rolled in to emergency with that bloody face, I felt like crying," he confesses. I am stunned.

"Why? You've seen a lot of those in the hospital, I bet."

"Well yeah...but I don't know them." He pauses. "You're my brother, alright? It's different. And when I saw you with that face, on the stretcher, it felt like I was being stabbed in the heart multiple times."

I am taken aback by his words and I only stare at him. When he sees that I won't say anything, he continues. "I was so mad that time. Mad at you for not fighting back, and mad at Hawthorne for doing that to my little brother. I still am mad at Hawthorne actually, and a little bit at you but I try to conceal it," he jokes. "What you did was noble, by the way. Not fighting back? Oh jeez man if I was put in that position, I would've kicked him in the motherfucking balls!" I laugh at his statement. He laughs with me.

"Oh I know you would've," I tease.

"Blah, blah, blah," he utters and checks the time. It's 5:30. "Well," he says as he slaps my back. _Ouch. _"I need to go now. Better tell mom and dad I have work till 5 alright?" He shouts as he makes his way out of the door.

"Alright!" I shout back. Bryce gets out from his room as soon as Nicollo backs up from the driveway. He's changed too. "Hey where's my key? And where are you going?" I ask him.

"Oh right," he utters as he walks his way back to his room. After a few moments he comes back out and throws me my key. "I'm going out for drinks with the guys," he says as he puts his shoes on. "Tell mom and dad I won't be home till twelve, will ya?"

"Yeah, whatever. Don't get too drunk."

"Dude, I'm 21 years old, "don't get too drunk" isn't in my vocabulary."

"Yeah, sure," I chuckle.

"Har. Har. Oh by the way, I filled your car up. You're welcome." And he walks out of the door, leaving me alone at home thinking, _my brothers really aren't that bad._

I smile at the thought and I make my way to my room, where I'll be cooped up for two more days.

_Happy spring break, Peeta, _I say to myself as I drift off to sleep once more.


	5. Chapter 5

The next two days are uneventful, no one even bothers to contact me, ask me how I've been. Finnick, though, went and visited me the other day, right after I got admitted out of the hospital. Told me I looked like a mess. _Yeah, but I feel better now, thank you very much. _

Leave it to Finnick Odair for being totally blunt. I don't think he filters his thoughts sometimes, so when he speaks, it may come out as being rude. We're used to it. But most of the time when he talks, it's the truth. An example of which is when he knew Katniss didn't find my 'memory loss' prank funny.

To this day, she still hasn't answered me. May it be any of my texts, calls, IMs—basically any sort of communication between us. Nothing. No answer. She's such a tough cookie. She will bend soon enough, though. I just know it. I mean, we won't miss each other at school, since we basically have the same classes together. But the downside to it is, we won't see each other for four more days.

I check my twitter and see if she tweeted anything, but no such luck. I contemplate about mentioning her and ask her how she's going, but I delete my message as quickly as I type it. _You're such a coward, Peeta. _Shut up, brain. I check my BBM, nada. Facebook... facebook? Psh. Who uses that nowadays anyway? Maybe people who like to bitch at other people for apparently being bitches. I don't go on it, by the way, so that doesn't make me one of them. Except of course if somebody decides to start talking shit about me, then I will flip.

I sigh, feeling hopeless and bored. I turn off my computer and put my cell phone on the nightstand. I turn on my TV, being the only form of electronic entertainment left in my room, and flip through the channels. _Hannah Montana. _What the hell? Flip. _Speed Channel. _Eh, rerun. Flip. _CTV. _Nope, not watching the news. Flip. _Ghost Adentures. _Hmm interesting... alright flip. _CBC News. _No siree. Flip. _Mayday. _Too morbid. Flip. _NHL._ Not in the mood for sports. Flip. _Dancing With The Stars. _Not a dancer. Flip. _Weather Channel. _I said entertain myself not bore myself to death. Flip. _Horse racing. _Pfft. Flip. _Cake Boss. _Ah, that's more like it. A show I could finally relate to. But wait, it's a rerun. Eh flip. I give up and turn the TV off.

Oh. Ding, ding! Other random facts about me: I bake and paint pictures. Why baking, you may ask? Well it should be obvious since our family owns a bakery. I have been working there my entire life, especially when I was a kid. Dad would teach me how to do frostings on cakes, or make muffins. Chocolate chip and blueberry muffins are my favorite. I still work there now, but only when I have time. Spring break doesn't count as free time, though. I need this whole week to relax, to stay away from any work as much as possible. And that's where painting comes in. I paint when I'm bored or whenever I have an idea in mind. I know, I know what you're thinking. _Doesn't painting require you to move your hands, aka work your hands? _Yes it does, but not as strenuous as it does baking.

Hmm.

Actually, come to think of it, painting does sound pretty good right about now. I'm bored and I've got nothing else to do, so why the hell not, right? Right. I jump out of my bed and shuffle through my drawers, where I look for paintbrushes and, of course, paints. There's nothing there. I move on to the small box below my bed where I keep some of my stuff and find three slightly used brushes and small cans of green, yellow and blue paint. _Yes. Yes, this is perfect. _I look at my materials and smile. _Alright Peet, you're making progress._

I need one more material though, a canvas.

I run downstairs to our basement to look for an empty canvas. I flip through different sizes of frames, hoping to find something with no paintings in them. But there is nothing. _I need to buy one. _I quickly run back upstairs to change and grab my car keys. As I am running around the house, Bryce just stares at me from the living room like I'm a madman looking for food or something.

"What's going on?" He asks when he finally gets tired of seeing me run around the house like a little kid. "Is there a fire or something?"

"Wha- huh?" I ask, distracted by my task in hand.

"Why are you running around the house like a little kid?"

"Oh. I need to buy a canvas."

Bryce looks at me confused. "What? You didn't even answer my question, ya moron. Are you high?" He jokes.

"Yes, I'm high," I grin at him. "Just kidding. Uh, I wanted to paint so I looked for an empty canvas downstairs but there was nothing, so I'm going out to buy one. Wanna come?"

"Oh jeez no. Still on that painting shiz, eh?"

"Hey, painting isn't a 'shiz', it's a hobby." I look at him, "you look miserable, you should have one, too." I joke.

He laughs at my statement. "Trust me, I do have one. And it isn't as boring and unexciting as yours."

I look at him and ask, "What might that hobby be?"

"Oh I think we both know what it is," he winks. _Hanging out with women, of course._

"Nah, I don't. But I don't wanna talk about it."

"Hah. Of course you don't."

"Shut up," I chuckle.

"Eh. Go buy your bass or vase or whatever the hell that is." _It's canvas, you big dumbass._

"It's canvas, you big dumbass."

He waves me off. "Canvas, bass, vase, same old same old. Now go, you're interrupting my TV time."

"Alright. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes or so."

"Dude," he turns around. "I'm not mom or dad. You can stay in the store for fifteen hours if you'd like, I don't care. Now go. I don't want to miss anything more from this."

"What is that show anyway?"

"Shhh!" He says, his finger on his lip. I just laugh.

"Dude, you do know that for every hour you watch TV your lifespan decreases by twenty-two minutes, don't you?" No response. _Alright._ I take that as a no and walk my way out of the door.

* * *

I arrive at the crafts store and hastily walk over to where the canvases are. I walk up and down the aisle, scanning through different frames when I finally see the perfect one. I examine it, looking for damages. There is none. _This is great. _

I walk towards the cashier when I see Cato. He works here. When he sees me, he smiles. "Hey buddy, how are ya? Head still hurt?" He asks.

"Great. Been feeling much better actually. But I'm bored, ya know?" I reply.

He chuckles at my response. "Yeah. Hey look, sorry I haven't visited you lately, been busy at work. Can't say no though, there's money at stake here."

I wave his statement off and chuckle. "I get you. Working is actually much better than being stuck at home for a couple of days."

"Why don't you go work at the bakery? Help your dad?"

"I want to, but I don't know. I'm lazy, I guess."

"What a responsible son," he says sarcastically.

"Can't say the same for you," I wink as he checks the canvas out. "See ya!" I say.

"Later!" He replies. "Oh by the way, before I forget, Ethan is going to have a house party this Friday before school starts, wanna come?"

I nod, having nothing good to do on Friday. "Sure, who's going to be there?"

"Oh I don't know, I think he invited the whole class."

"The whole class?"

He nods. "Yeah." He senses my hesitation. "Don't worry, we'll fight Gale off when we see him. First thing."

I chuckle. "That's not necessary. And okay, I'll go. What time's it gonna start?"

"I think seven or eight? I don't know. We'll just go there at seven-thirty to be sure."

"Alright. I'll pick you guys up."

"Okay great. Thanks man. See ya." He says as his supervisor walks up to his till.

"Yup. Later." And I walk out of the store.

* * *

I arrive at our house a few moments later and see Nicollo's car parked in the driveway. _He's home early. _

"How was shopping?" Bryce teases as I walk into the house.

"Shut up."

"Oh. Feisty."

I laugh. "I'm going to a friend's house party on Friday."

"Oh. Okay. But uh here's the thing though: I don't care."

I punch him in the arm. "Still not done with your TV time?"

"Nope. It's a marathon."

"Ah." I say as I walk to my bedroom. "Hey listen, don't go to my room alright?"

"Why the hell would I?"

"You have a habit of barging in to my room when you get scared. And that show looks pretty scary to me." I tease. He's watching Ghost Adventures.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Now shush."

I enter my bedroom and chuck the canvas onto my bed. I take out my canvas stand from my cabinet and put it by the window. It is a glorious day out today. The sun is out and the temperature isn't too cold, but isn't too hot either. This is a perfect spring day.

I position the canvas on its stand carefully so it looks adjacent to the object I'm about to paint. I also place the other materials on my study table just beside me. I smile as I look out the window and see my subject.

A dandelion.

Why a dandelion? Well, let me tell you a story about it.

It was a couple of years ago when it happened; I think it was during second grade. You see, I was kind of a loner. Cato and Marvel weren't in any of my classes that year, only Delly. I know you might think it's a good thing because at least I knew one person in my class. But you're wrong. I was bullied that time. Terribly. They were laughing at me because I was playing with a girl. What the hell could I do? She was the only person I knew in my class.

So anyway, I was playing with Delly on the playground one day when all of a sudden, a boy from my- our grade threw a pebble at me. At my back. I turn around and see the boy and his friends laughing at me telling me I'm a girl and stuff. I couldn't help myself so I cried. What I did only made them laugh harder. I was about to get up and run off when someone shouted at the boy's group to "Stop laughing!" I looked up and see Katniss standing in front of me, hands on her hips, her face scrunched up in annoyance. The boys only stuck their tongue out and left, skipping on their way to the swings.

She looked at me and helped me up. "Don't worry," I remember her saying, "if they tease you again call me. I would tell Mr. Snow what they're doing to you." Mr. Snow was our principal.

She handed me something and ran back to her friends. After making sure that she was out of sight, I opened my palms and saw a small yellow flower. It was beautiful. I didn't know what it was that time, so when I went home that afternoon I asked my dad.

"That's a dandelion," he said. "Dandelions only grow during spring."

I didn't even get to thank her that day. Still hasn't up 'til now.

So that's the reason why I wanted to paint a dandelion. It's for her. For Katniss. She helped me stand up and gave me hope during the time I needed it the most. It may seem childish to you, but to me, what she did was heroic. She is my hero, my dandelion in the spring.

I slap myself and snap back to reality. _Okay, don't waste any more of your time, Peeta._

Right.

I start with a bit of green paint for its stem, working it up and down until it has the proportioned amount of paint to be considered a stem. I continue with the yellow paint for the petals itself. I carefully stroke each petal, up, down, left, and right. I do it continuously until the picture looks like a dandelion. And then I move on to the blue paint, to use it as the background. I lightly stroke my brush and fill the remaining space left in my canvas. I do it until the background looks like the sky.

I stare at my finished product and can't help but smile. _You still got it, Peet, _I think to myself. It had been months since I painted a picture. The last one was of the beach. My parents were pretty happy for me when my painting made it to our art gallery's exhibition. I was, too.

I hear shuffling from the other side of my door. Someone knocks lightly. "Peeta?" Mom says. "Dinner's ready."

I stand up from my seat and look at the clock. 7:00. Well, that's pretty early for dinner. "Coming, mom!" I shout.

When I get to the table, everything's set. I sit down at my usual spot and wait for Bry and Nick to come down from their rooms. After for what seems like an eternity, they come down.

"Finally." I mutter. Dad just eyes me.

We settle ourselves down and eat our dinner. Usually our dinners are silent, but Bryce clears his throat and starts the talking. "So, how's the painting going, Peet?"

Mom looks at me and asks, "You're painting again? Oh that's amazing, Peeta!" She claps her hands.

I smile at her and reply, "Yeah mom. In fact I'm done with it."

They all look at me. "Already?" Bryce asks.

I nod yes. "It wasn't a difficult painting. It's a dandelion."

"Oh."

"Yeah. After dinner, I'm gonna show it to you guys."

"Fantastic." Dad chimes in, smiling.

"Yeah. Oh and by the way, Ethan's gonna have a house party on Friday. Can I go mom?"

"Is Hawthorne gonna be there?" Nicollo asks, his voice stern.

"Yeah. But no worries, Nick. We'll stay away from him."

"Okay," mom butts in. "But don't get _too _drunk," she winks. "Where does Ethan live, by the way?"

"Oh. Just a couple of blocks from here."

"Okay."

"Thanks, mom."

"You have to be home by two."

"You got it."

We finish dinner rather quickly. I show them my painting and they all look astonished. _That's a very nice picture, son,_ Dad says. Mom agrees. Bryce and Nicollo clap their hands.

* * *

Friday has come sooner than expected, and I am rushing to get changed for Ethan's party. I look at the clock and it reads 7:50. _Fuck. _I promised my buddies I would pick them up at 7:30.

I drive quickly to my buddies' houses, hoping they aren't pissed at me yet. Thankfully, they're not. We get to Ethan's house a few minutes later, and are surprised at the amount of people already in there. Loud music is booming throughout the house, and drinks are already consumed. _What the fuck? It's only eight. _We find Ethan sitting by the pool, downing his second can of beer for the night. We walk to him, ask him how he's been, and tell him how great this party looks. He thanks us and hands us each a can of beer. We all oblige and sit down by the pool, where girls in bathing suits are splashing water at us.

_Welcome to the crazy world of adulthood, Peet._

* * *

I think I've already downed my fifth can of beer when a huge group of people arrive. I look at them and hazily see the girl I've wanted to talk to for days. I think she sees me, I'm not sure, but she walks toward Ethan and hands him a bottle of what I think is... vodka.

_What time is it? _I glance at my watch and focus intently on it. My vision is blurry. I think it's 12:00, or is it 11? _Ah screw the time._

"Katniss!" I shout her name when she walks past me, my speech slurred. She looks at me quickly and averts her gaze. "Katniss!" I shout again. But she doesn't face me. "Look, we," I point at her and then me; "we need to talk, sweetheart."

She turns to face me. "What do we need to talk about? And don't call me sweetheart, you fucking jerk."

I jerk my head back at her statement and smirk, standing up from my chair, rather drunkenly. Cato holds me up while I speak. _Man your breath smells disgusting, _he whispers to me. I glare at him. He shrugs as if saying, _hey it's true! _I ignore him.

"Uhh," I mumble, scratching the back of my head. "I don't really know. Can you fill me in?"

She shakes her head and scoffs as she walks back to her group of friends. To Gale. I could hear their laughter from here. _Those bitches._

"Wa-wait! I remember now! Wait. Stop walking!" I shout at her. She turns around, her eyebrows cocked up in curiosity, her hands on her hips. I sigh as I start talking. "Look, I'm sorry. For what happened at the hospital." Her eyebrows slowly get down at their normal form. "I was a jerk, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

She is walking up to me now, when I feel something coming out of my mouth. I try to keep it down, but the taste of drank beer is horrid. She is only a few steps away from me when I chuck out the contents of my stomach.

And then pass out.

_Stupid beer._

* * *

**A/N****:** Thank you guys so, so much for all the positive feedbacks! They are what keep me going! Unfortunately, I probably won't be able to update for a couple of days (or weeks, so sorry!) as school is getting really busy now, with finals and graduation just around the corner. I hope you guys would understand.

*Comments: I'm sorry the story about the dandelion is too short, I really don't know how to extend it, and for the lack of Katniss/Peeta scenes. I promise there would be much more of those in the next chapters! (As this is a Peeta/Katniss story). So, yeah. Stay tuned for the next chapters and I hope you guys enjoyed reading this part as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Bye bye for now!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here it is! My celebratory chapter! (One month of being a member!) So... yeah, I hope you guys enjoy and please leave a review, as well!**

* * *

I wake up to the loud beeping sound of an alarm clock. I feel for the clock and sleepily pound it off. _Where am I and who the fuck would even set an alarm for the weekend? _I groan and bury my face on the pillow, trying to go back to sleep. But I can't. The loud sound of the alarm has startled me awake.

My head is throbbing. And I feel so lightheaded and dizzy. My stomach is empty (I'm pretty sure) but I have a funny feeling that I'm about to puke any time soon. I never knew being hung over would feel like this. I feel so beat up and tired and generally just feel like a... a train wreck, a disaster, a _total mess, _to tell you the truth. Every fibre, every muscle of my being just feels so terribly thrashed.

I look around the room and check to see if I am home. My vision is still kind of blurry but I can just make out the familiar blue walls, and a painting of a dandelion hung just to the right of me. This is my room. Someone drove me home, or maybe someone called Bry or Nick to come pick me up from the party last night.

The party.

I couldn't even remember most of the things that happened last night. But I am pretty sure it was _fucking rad. _

_Yeah. Like you would know, you were basically out of it after your third can of beer. _I chuckle at the memory and it makes my head throb more violently than it did just a few moments ago. This reminds me of the time when I got out of the hospital, only this is much, much worse. I didn't even think it was possible to have this sort of headache. _Give me some Advil._

I sit up carefully in my bed, looking for my phone. I feel for it in my bed, but it isn't here. I look for it in my nightstand, and it is sitting above my electronic clock. It reads 2:46 pm. I grab my phone and check if I have any messages. Turns out I have three. All from Cato.

_Yo Peet how's the hangover going? _Received: 9:34 am. _Not too good, _I think.

_Call me when you wake up you big dumbass. _Received: 12:45 pm.

And the most recent one was received just a few minutes ago, at 2:40 pm.

_ Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!_

I try putting his messages off for a while and I let my right leg swing to the side of my bed. Even this little action makes me so dizzy. I let myself calm down and feel balanced for a bit and then slowly, but carefully, I stand up from my bed. My vision blackens for a while. As if my simple act of standing up has somehow disoriented my sense of equilibrium.

I slowly walk my way to the bathroom across the hall, dragging my feet noisily on my bedroom's laminate flooring. I'm pretty sure my parents could hear my noisy feet, as their bedroom is right next to mine. I don't care though, I'm tired and sleepy and hung over. They'll understand. As long as they know I _am_ hung over.

_Wait, it's almost three o'clock dumbass, I'm sure they're already up and working. _Oh. Right.

I enter the bathroom and turn the faucet on, slouching over the sink and letting the water run for a few minutes. I turn the knob so it runs cold water out. I stare at myself in the mirror and see my face has on a light reddish shade. Almost looks like I'm blushing. _Probably because of too much alcohol. _Dark purple circles envelope the bags just below my eyes. And my always fixed-up blonde hair is a mess. Even my outfit looks filthy, with occasional yellowish blotches staining my white shirt. I sniff my shirt and am appalled by its smell. It reeks of alcohol mixed with saliva. Most probably because I puked on it last night at the party and my brothers didn't even have the decency to change my soiled clothes to new and cleaner ones.

I splash cold water on my face and could feel the cold trickle down the contours of my reddish face. It feels refreshing and relieving, having it splashed on my face. It also woke me up a little. I stare up at the mirror again, and see the reddish shade has somewhat disappeared. I examine my whole body, swathed in filthy apparel, and decide to take a cold shower, instead of just washing my face.

I turn on the shower, its knob set on the mildest temperature, not too hot, not too cold. I take off my dirty clothes and throw them to the sink. I don't really care if it gets wet, I'm gonna wash it later anyway. Or at least I _think _I will. Probably after a week.

I step into my bathtub, and almost slip. Good thing I am still holding on to my towel ring. I stand under the showerhead and I let the lukewarm feel of the water pour down on me, seemingly relaxing my tired body. I remain in this position for what seems to be like hours- just thinking about what happened eleven years ago, when I first met Katniss. How just two years ago I could've told her how I really felt about her. And how, if that would've happened, my life would be perfect. But no, someone just had to _ruin everything. _It now I would never be able to tell her how I feel.

* * *

_I approach _their_ table and walk directly behind her. "Hey Katniss, can I, uh, talk to you for a sec?" I ask as the lunch hour is about to end._

I don't even know how or where I got the guts to talk to her. It just kind of... _happened._

_ She stands up from her chair, startled by my request. "Um, yeah sure, what's up Mellark?" She asks in a pell-mell manner as she slings her bag on her shoulder, carrying her lunch tray back to the cafeteria stall. I walk with her. "Is this about our project?" She whispers, her brows crease in worry._

Oh right. I remember now. We had this stupid project we had to do for Geography, and Katniss and I were paired up, our teacher assigning us to do a presentation about New Brunswick. Of course. I really wouldn't have had the confidence to talk to her just like _that. _I am a coward. Kind of. _Especially _when it comes to girls.

_"Huh? No. No, I had it all worked out," I beam at her. "It's done, don't worry." _

_ She heaves a sigh of relief, her hand placed on her chest. "Okay," she chuckles. "Okay what is this about then, Mellark?"_

_ I look around to see if this is a good spot to finally tell her. Wait, what am I thinking? Of course not. Never ever. The cafeteria is always teeming with eavesdroppers, so nope. I think it's safe to rule this one out. "Uh," I stammer. "C-can we talk somewhere else? Somewhere more...private?" I ask nervously. My palms are sweating._

_ She eyes me suspiciously, crossing her arms across her chest. "Why?" She asks in a flat tone. _

_ I really couldn't answer her, so I just mutter, "because—" and then trail off._

_ "Let's go to Cinna's room then," she says when she realizes I have nothing else to say._

_ "Wha-?" and I trail off again. I really don't have any choice. So I just say, "Okay, that sounds great." And then we walk to Cinna's—her art teacher—room._

_ When we get to Cinna's room, we see a boy sitting in the front row chair, his head bowed down as if he is taking a nap. He has a black head of hair, and looks about the size of a twelfth grader. Football player material. I think he heard us walking into the room, because his head jerks up. "Hey," he says. I nod back. "You two should go get another room, this one's taken," he utters cockily, and then bows his head back._

_ "Oh n-no, we're not... in a relationship we're just... friends, we wanted to talk about our project. Right, Peeta?" Katniss says quickly. I just nod my head in agreement, even though he won't see what I'm doing. _

_ "Um, yeah. We're not in a—"_

_ "Eh just save your bullshit for later will you, lover boy? I'm trying to take a nap here." The boy interjects. "Now go on about your business in another room." He waves us off._

_ I jerk my head back in surprise. Woah. Who the fuck does this kid think he is?_

_ I am about to say something when Katniss holds my arm back. I look at her. She's worried. Worried I might punch this guy in the face. She knows I can, I'm a wrestler. "Look, okay, we'll go." She tells the boy. "Come on, Peeta." She tugs me by the arm. I oblige and hesitantly follow her. _

_ We barely make it out of the room when Katniss starts. "Come on, spit it out."_

_ "What?" I ask confusedly._

_ "There was something you wanted to tell me, what was it?" She says, clearly annoyed._

_ "Oh. Uh—"I pause. I look down and start to fiddle with whatever it is in my hands. I think it's a yarn of some sort. I don't know why, but I get so nervous when I'm around her. _

_I don't want to tell it to her this way, though. I want it to be just the two of us, no distractions, no small chatters, and absolutely no annoying cocky black haired boys. I want it to be perfect. But I guess you can never have anything you want._

_ "What is it?" She asks, tapping her foot. "Look, the bell's about to ring and I have to be in class on time. I can't afford another detention. So spit it out!" She says impatiently, violently pointing at her wristwatch multiple times. _

_ "Uh, okay." I straighten up. "Umm... See I really want to tell you—"And the first buzzer rings, signaling that we only have about five minutes to get to class. _

_ "Just tell me after class, okay?" She says as she walks hastily to her next class._

_ "O-okay then," I say. "See you," I mutter._

_ But I never did._

_ Because by dismissal time, I see her hanging out with the black haired boy._

_ And his name is Gale Hawthorne. _

* * *

"Peeta?" I could hear my mom call for me from the hallway. I don't answer. "Peeta?" She calls again, her voice a bit louder now. Her squawk somehow snaps me out of my trance.

"Yeah mom, I'm in the bathroom!" I answer back literally a second before she bangs on the bathroom door.

"Oh, okay. I just wanted to check!" She replies.

"I'm fine, mom." I yell over the noise of running water.

A few minutes later I step out of the shower and wipe myself off. I think that has been the longest I've ever taken a shower, to be honest. Because when I do, it usually takes only about ten minutes. This one lasted for about half an hour. Three times longer. What a record.

I quickly get changed into fresh clean pair of clothes, finally ridding myself of the filthy ones I had on from the night before. I feel more refreshed now, no more feelings of beat-up muscles and little less violent throbbing of my head. The smell of puke is gone now, too. _Thank the heavens._

"Hey, hey! Look who finally came out of his room!" Bryce yells happily as I step out into the living room. He's plopped down at his spot—as usual—and so is the rest of the family. They're watching something on the TV, but they all turn their heads around to see me.

"How did the hang over treat you?" Nick jokingly asks. I'm really in no mood to talk about it right now. Actually, I'm in no mood to talk about _anything _right now, so I just shake my head, clearly saying _terrible._

"Ah. That bad, huh?" Nick asks again, as if he didn't see me shake my head just a few moments ago. "Drink coffee, it helps with the hang over." He suggests. I nod.

I walk over to the kitchen to prepare myself some coffee. My mom stands up from her seat and walks over to the kitchen as well, offering to help me with my chore. She orders me to sit down. I thank her. _I told you, you shouldn't get too drunk, _she says, concerned. _You looked terrible last night! _She teases. I snort.

"I know, it felt terrible, too." I say. "If I remember correctly, I was basically out of it when I finished my third can of beer." I chuckle. Mom chuckles as well and hands me the hot cup of coffee. I wrap my hands around the outline of the cup, trying to grasp the warmth it has to offer. It feels relieving. "So who dropped me off last night? Or did Nick come and pick me up?"

"Oh hell no. I wouldn't want somebody to puke in my car!" Nick shouts from the living room, obviously listening to our conversation. He has very sensitive ears, that boy. He's like a dog. He hears everything. "My car might be three years old, but I keep it clean at all times!"

Mom laughs at Nick's response and says to me, "No, your friends dropped you off. They were with a girl, too," she says. My ears perk up at her mention of a certain "girl".

"And by friends you mean... Cato, Marvel and Finn, right?"

"Yeah. They were all sober. At least they looked like it. While you, on the other hand, young man, looked terrible." She says, waving her index finger at me. "And the girl was the same one from the hospital."

I almost spit my coffee at her. "Katniss?" I ask.

"Yes, that's her name! She said you almost puked on her. And that after you almost puked on her, you passed out." My mom's voice is flat and she _tsks._

I'm surprised. "What? Puked on her how?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, that's what she said." She says, standing up. "Now, after you finish your coffee be sure to wash the cup, okay? And _don't _get too drunk again." She says as she walks back to the living room, leaving me alone in my thoughts when I suddenly remember I needed to call Cato.

I quickly wash the cup and head back to the room to grab my phone. But as I do, I stop. "By the way, who set my alarm?" I ask no one in particular.

"You did, dumbass!" Bryce shouts.

"Language, Bry!" My mom says sternly.

"Sorry, mom."

"Wait me? Why?"

"I don't know. I asked you that same question and you just said 'because I want to!' and then crashed into your bed. And plus, you were drunk, for crying out loud! Drunk people tend to do stupid things." He chuckles.

"Oh." I drop my head down, suppressing a chuckle, and then go straight to my room.

I grab my phone from my nightstand and quickly dial in Cato's number. After a few rings he answers.

"Dude, what the hell? I've been calling you the whole day! I thought you were dead or something!" He exclaims.

"Sorry, terrible headache."

He chuckles on the other line. "That bad, huh?"

"You have no clue."

"Hah. By the way, you wouldn't guess what happened last night!"

"Oh I can. I almost puked on Katniss. You told my mom that."

He lets out a loud guffaw. "Oh, right. Fuck. You should've seen yourself last night man, you were dead drunk! It was _hilarious!_"

I groan, not really wanting to delve into details with this one. "Ha ha. Very funny. Now tell me, what happened after that?"

"Well," he pauses. "We brought you home, and that's about it."

"Nothing else happened?"

"No. Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

I pause, examining his voice. When I sense no lies, I answer. "Okay. That's all I needed to know."

"You sound like an investigator or some shit, man. Loosen up, alright? Nothing else happened. I promise."

I'm the one who chuckles this time. "Yeah. You're right."

"See?"

"By the way, who drove my car last night?"

"I did. And it was fucking sick!"

"Hah. Thanks man. For driving me home."

"Eh. No worries."

I nod. "Well, I guess I'll see you lot on Monday."

"For sure."

"Alright bye." And I hang up the phone.

* * *

The weekend went by so fast. I am now rushing to get changed for school. _Two more months of this stupid routine and it's over, Peet, _I think to myself. I wish I could last that long, though.

Before dashing out for school, I quickly check my school calendar and check what school day it is. I wouldn't want to be the reason Abernathy gets a heart attack. And I wouldn't want to be involved in some stupid fight again. And have another concussion. That was the worst.

I look, and it reads day four. Okay good, I won't be in the same class as Gay-le today.

"I'm off to school, see you guys later!" I say.

"Alright, take care, honey." My mom replies.

"Yup." And I head straight to the garage and take out my car.

I decide to do the routine of picking my buddies up now. And every time I do their jaws still open up a little at the sight of my car. They're still not used to the idea of me having a car. I'm still not, either.

We get to school ten minutes before the first warning buzzer is supposed to ring, so we leisurely walk our way to each our classes. I try to remember what class I have first. _English._ I bid my friends goodbye as I make my way to Mr. Jones' room.

And then I remember one thing: Katniss is in my English class.

Without Gay-le, of course.

My heart leaps at the thought, and I try to walk casually into the classroom. As I do, the first person I notice is Johanna, sitting with her feet up her desk. She's wearing a short skirt, very inappropriate for this weather (9 degrees Celsius). And I can almost see her underwear. She sees me looking at her, and she smirks. I quickly glance around to see who else is in the class. No one. At least no one interesting, that is.

I sit down in my usual spot. I wonder where Katniss is. I hope she's not ditching today.

"Hey," someone taps my shoulder. I turn around and see Ethan.

"Hey man, what's up?"

"Did you finish the paper?"

_What paper? _"Uh. What paper? I wasn't here last Friday so you'd have to tell me about it."

He jerks his head back, surprised that I didn't know about this homework. "You know, the essay about the book? He told us about it a couple weeks ago. It's due today."

I suddenly get nervous, because I don't remember doing anything during spring break. And the only English paper I remember doing was an essay about to kill a mockingbird, which I handed last week.

"Which book? The To Kill a Mockingbird one?" I ask him. _Please let it be it. Please. Please._

He thinks about it for a while and answers, "Yeah. Yeah I think that's the one!"

I heave a sigh of relief. "Oh, sorry man, I already handed it in last week."

"You what?" He yells. "Stop being a nerd for one day, will ya? You're a fucking_ jock _for crying out loud. You're supposed to go out and party every night! Hang out with girls and shit."

I chuckle at his words. "I uh... I'm really not into parties. At least not anymore, not after what happened last Friday at your party." I say. "School is my priority at the moment. Maybe during summer, I would."

Ethan stops. And after a moment he laughs. The jerk is actually laughing at _me. _I just shake my head and turn around just in time to see Katniss come into the room. My heart is doing its flips again. She looks fucking beautiful with her dark brown hair hung loose and her piercing grey eyes, as always.

I think my eyes followed her every action, because as she sits down, she eyes me down. I quickly avert my gaze, and I'm fucking _blushing._ I think I hear her chuckle. I'm not sure if it is her, though.

English class is a bore. We read during the first half hour of class, and then hand in our papers. Well, they do, since I already handed mine in last week.

The bell rings, and we're all in a rush to get out of the room. As I walk out of the room, however, someone taps me in the shoulder. I turn around to see who it is and to my surprise, it is _Katniss. _My heart immediately gets stuck in my throat. I can't say anything. So I just stare at her with my eyes wide open.

She chuckles at my expression. "What class do you have next?" She asks.

I stare at her still, my mind blank. She snaps her fingers in front of my face. I snap out of my trance and clear my throat.

"Uh, I think... I think I have a spare. You?"

"Me, too."

I chuckle nervously. I get this feeling again, butterflies in my tummy or whatever the hell you call them. I stammer, too.

I don't know how or why I'm so enchanted by this girl. But whatever the reason(s), she doesn't know. She doesn't have any idea, the effect she can have.

"Can we talk?" She starts when the silence grows awkward.

"Um... uh yeah. But what if Gale sees us?"

"Oh," she chuckles. "Don't worry; he won't be here for two weeks. He went to Vancouver to visit his family."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, can we?"

"Oh, shit. Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Let's go back to Mr. Jones' room."

I oblige and follow her lead.

She sits down in her spot and orders me to sit beside her.

"So..." I start the conversation this time. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

She's quiet for a while, and then clears her throat. "About what happened in the hospital."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Yeah, about that. I'm so sorry, Katniss. I really shouldn't have done it. It was a sick fucking joke."

"No, no. Don't apologize. It's me who should be apologizing. I over reacted. I'm sorry."

I'm shocked at her apology. "It's okay," I say. I'm almost tempted to ask why she did bolt out of my room the day I was hospitalized, but I zip my mouth shut. "And I'm sorry I almost puked in your shoes."

She laughs and shakes her head. I just chuckle. That was an embarrassing memory.

"It's okay," she says. "It was actually kind of funny. Your brothers were kind of cool."

I just stay silent, suppressing a smile. I can't actually believe I'm talking to her right now.

When she finishes laughing, I heave a sigh. "So, are we quits?"

She smiles at me, and it brings back those butterflies in my stomach. "Yeah, quits." And she extends her hand out to me, offering a shake. I oblige and shake her hand.

"You're not very bad yourself, Mellark." She says as she stands up.

"You're not very bad yourself either, Everdeen," I reply.

"Well, thanks. Not every person thinks that way about me," she confesses.

I try to keep my mouth shut as the question 'why?' is already at the tip of my tongue, but I know better. So I just make my way out of the room.

Before I get out, though, she calls out my name. I turn around.

"Wanna play basketball on Friday?"

I cock my eyebrows up in question. "You play basketball?"

Her hands make its way to her hips and nods her head. "I dabble."

"Ah." I say.

"Yup. So, are you in or not?"

"Just the two of us?"

"Yeah." She tilts her head. "Why, are you scared I might beat you?"

I chuckle. "No, it's just... I really don't see you as the basketball playing type of girl."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I might prove you wrong."

"Hah. Uh, okay. Um, I'll pick you up on Friday? Four o'clock?"

She smiles. "Yeah. Sure."

"Okay."

And before I could make my way out of the room, she grabs hold of my hand and whips me around.

And the next thing that she does surprises me.

She kisses me. Passionately. And before I could even process what is going on, she pulls away quickly.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm so sorry." And runs out of the room crying, but I grab her hand quickly.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." I say, enveloping her in a hug. I don't care who sees us right now. She just needs to be comforted.

"No, it's not! I have a boyfriend!"

Her response sends a pang of guilt through me because she's right.

"He won't know." I pause. "And I'm sorry I kissed you back." I say apologetically.

She chuckles. "You always apologize for things you aren't responsible doing."

I smirk. "I guess it's in my nature."

Long pause, and she looks up at me. "Thank you," she says.

"For what?" I ask.

"I... I don't know really. Can you fill me in?" She teases. I vaguely remember saying that when I talked to her last Friday, rather drunkenly.

"Hah."

"Just... thank you for being you, I guess."

"Being me? What do you mean?"

"I've known you since first grade, Peeta. And your attitude hasn't changed ever since."

I tilt my head. "So you mean, you've been watching me all these years?"

She chuckles. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Mellark."

I laugh and pause soon after. "I guess I owe you gratitude, too."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"When you told those bullies off, and for giving me that dandelion when we were kids. Thanks for that. Really means a lot to me."

She looks surprised at my words. "You have... a remarkable memory."

I smile at her. "You do, too."

She sniffs and straightens up, carefully extracting herself from my hug. I don't want to let her go, though, so I hug her tighter. She lets out a small squeal.

"I'm sorry," I say, letting go of the tight hug. She just nods.

"I... I have to go," she says.

"Yeah, for sure."

I want to remind her about our basketball session on Friday, but I don't want to seem pushy, so I just let it go.

When I'm convinced she actually forgot about it, I turn around and go straight to my locker. But she yells out my name. I turn around.

"Don't forget about our game on Friday." She winks.

I nod my head, "Oh trust me, I won't."

And then I happily skip my way to my locker.

**tbc.**

* * *

**A/N:** **Ahh! That was surprising, wasn't it? I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this chapter! And I'm sorry the Katniss/Peeta scene wasn't too long, either! I promise, promise, promise there would be a lot more of those in the next chapters as this story is about to take on new twists and turns! So... yeah, I wouldn't be here for a couple of weeks (sorry!). But as soon as school is over, I promise I would update as much as possible!**

**So again, thank you so much for your feedbacks and such!**

**Bye bye for now! xo**


	7. Author's Note

Hi guys! Sorry I haven't updated this story yet, I've been very, very busy with school.

But here's the thing though: my last exam would be on Wednesday, so that means, I could finally update this story within this week! (YAAY!)

The earliest I could update is Wednesday night, but if I can't do it by that time, the latest, I would say, would be on Friday!

So yeah, I'll put up an update on Friday, so be sure to check on your story alerts and such because this story is about to get super interesting and fluffy! (Heheheh!)

Alright, that's all for tonight, and I hope you guys have a good week!


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N:**** Hey, hey! I'm finally back! Thank you guys so much for being patient with me. So as a reward, here it is, Chapter 7 to **_**Hey, Katniss!**_** Hope you guys enjoy, and maybe leave a review? Haha!**

* * *

I never thought my first day back to school would turn out to be like this. I never, in my life, would've thought that I would talk to Katniss Everdeen, the one girl I've had a crush on for like ever (Damn it now I sound like a girl, but it's true), much less go out for a friendly game of basketball with her on Friday (Which she asked me out on. But I won't flatter myself too much though, after all, it only would be a friendly basketball game).

I spy Cato walking up to me now, holding on to his binder. "Hey buddy," I exclaim, actually grinning.

"Woah there buddy, you look...different," Cato says as he makes his way to his locker right next to mine, Finn and Marvel not too far behind him.

"Huh?" I ask innocently, but on the inside, I try to suppress my smile. "Different how?"

Cato doesn't seem to notice my act, and he goes on, "I don't know, just different, like...you're blushing or something." he shrugs.

I eye him questioningly.

"Eh, never mind. And plus, it's the first day back, you should at least act bored or something!"

"Exactly the point, it _is _our first day back, so we should at least act happy about it," I reply.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know man, you're usually not like this, all giddy and shit. From the looks of it something happened today," he counters. "Something good, that is... I mean, look at that smug little smile you got there," he points at my face, all smiles as he did, "looks like you kissed a girl or something."

I widen my eyes at him and gulp. I suddenly get nervous. My palms start to sweat like crazy.

_Did he see me? Did he see me kiss Katniss today? Holy shit. I'm screwed. No. _

He looks at me quizzically, brows furrowed in confusion, "Something wrong there, buddy?" He asks, smacking my back.

But I casually shrug his question off, pretending to act unknowingly. "Nah, I'm all good. I mean if something did happen, I would've told you." I reply.

"Yup. That's exactly what you would've done," he says, closing his locker, and then leans in to me, his voice now hushed into a whisper, "except you didn't," he winks.

I jerk my head back. _So he did see me! He does know! Fuck fuck fuck. I'm screwed. I'm dead. Fuck. _

My mind is racing and my heart is violently beating in my chest, it feels like it's about to explode. I'm sweating again, and my knees feel wobbly, like it's about to turn into jelly. I could feel my face burn red, blushing.

_What the hell is happening to me? I feel like I'm about to pass out or something._

"W-what do you mean?" I ask, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"Don't worry mate, we won't tell anyone," Finnick responds teasingly when he sees my worried face, but his voice is low.

_He knows about this too? Who else knows? What the actual fuck?_

"What the fuck? You know about it, too?" I ask him, my voice an octave higher than the usual. I don't care. My buddies just laugh at my predicament.

"Yeah," Finn chuckles, "I saw it, and then I told them." Cato and Marvel are laughing hysterically now, unable to control their emotions. They even punch my arms.

My friends are so violent. Yup. Welcome to my world.

"This is _not_ funny!" I point at them, screeching, too annoyed by their loud guffaws. But what I did only makes them laugh _even harder. _And then my mind backtracks to his earlier statement, 'told them'. "Wait, by 'them' you mean, Cato and Marvel right? That's it?"

"Yeah," Finn says. "Don't worry; your secret's safe with us...unless of course, you want the whole school to know?" He taunts teasingly as he slaps my back heavily, making me gasp for air for a second.

_Ouch. Enough! Okay, if any of you lay even one finger on me, I will sue all of you. _"NO! What the fuck? No, of course not! Are you out of your goddamn _mind?" _

Finnick just shakes his head, chuckling.

"You're too wound up on things you really shouldn't even be too worried about, man," Cato says comfortingly. "Your secret's safe with us, ain't that right boys?"

"Damn right it is," Marvel says as he calms down. But his face is red from all the laughing, he even leans in to Cato's locker for support.

Finnick nods in agreement. "We're your buddies, Peet. You can trust us with anything," he says, his voice sounding genuinely sincere.

I stare at all three of them and think: _how did I even end up with these people? _But I realize they're right. They are my best pals, as I am to them. They can keep a secret, like I would. I realize that I could-_should_ trust them; they're like my second family. Only without a mother and father.

After a long pause (which Finn mentions to be like an eternity), I sigh, having made up my mind. I run my hands through my hair and face my three best pals. "All right, fine."

All of them sigh simultaneously in relief, placing their hands on their chests, and I can't help but laugh. I found it to be actually hilarious.

"But _don't _tell anyone! Alright? _Absolutely no one. _Not even my brother. We all know how much of a prick Bry is._"_ I return to being in a serious mode, and my voice is firm and authoritative.

"Yeah, no worries bud, your secret's safe with us," they all nod and promise at the same time.

"Okay." I eye them. "Let's go home." I say, shoving my stuff into my bag.

"About time," Cato whines. But I just ignore him. Finnick hushes him.

Walking our way to the parking lot, I tune out my buddies' mindless chatter as I remember the things that happened today. I trudge myself aimlessly as I picture our kiss again and again, how her soft, luscious lips met my unsuspecting lips. How it felt so good but so wrong at the same time. How her grey eyes pierced into my cerulean pair. How I wished we never broke away. How her body fit perfectly into mine when we hugged. How I so desperately hoped she was mi—.

My daydream is cut short when somebody bumps into me. _Damn it! _I look to see who roused me from my perfect trance. _That bastard._

"Hey! Next time, would you watch where you're go—"I stop immediately as I stare at the grey pair of eyes I was longing to see just a while ago.

"I'm sorry, Mellark." She whispers, head immediately facing the floor where her stuff are. She's fidgeting.

_There's something wrong with her._

"Oh. Uh, no, it's okay. It's my fault, I wasn't looking. I-I'm sorry." I stammer out.

"There you go again." She looks up and offers me a small smile which I mirror. She looks so beautiful when she smiles. She looks glowing.

I look at her curiously, "Pardon me?" I ask.

"Apologizing for something you're not responsible doing. You're doing it again." This time she chuckles, but it is only short-lived. And the sound of it makes my heart beat out of my chest again, my stomach do its flips.

I grin at her. "Oh, it's in my nature, I guess."

She beams at me, probably remembering that statement when we talked a while ago. "Well, you should learn how to _not_ apologize sometimes._"_

I chuckle. "O-okay, I'll uh, I'll try to remember that."

"Don't try, do."

"Hah. Okay coach, I will." I smile at her.

We share a short awkward pause before she clears her throat, breaking the silence. "Um, I have to go."

"Oh. Yeah, for sure. Sorry for bumping into you by the way. I wasn't looki—"

"Op, op, op. Remember what I told you?" She says, pointing her index finger at me.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. 'Don't apologize for things you aren't responsible doing.' Got it, coach." I wink at her, holding my two thumbs up.

_Why the hell did I just do that?_

"Very well." She replies, small smile upturning on her lips.

Those luscious lips I got to kiss only a couple of hours ago. The faint taste of cherry lipbal-.

_Snap out of it, Peeta! Help her pick her stuff up!_

Right.

I bend down and help her pick her stuff up. She bends down too and I can smell her perfume as she does. She smells like roses, but not a strong stench.

I usually don't like the smell of roses, but it's Katniss, so she is an exception.

As I am about to pick the last of her stuff, her hand touches mine. I feel a spark of electricity run through my veins. I stare at her, grey eyes meet blue. We hold our gazes for a full minute before turning our faces away, and her lifting her hand off mine. My cheeks are burning in what I could only call shyness.

"So. Um, see you around," I say as I stand up, waving curtly.

"Yeah, see you," she replies softly, tucking loose strands of hair into the back of her ears, walking out of the building.

"Yup," I mutter.

My friends all walk up to me now, huge grins plastered across their faces.

"Don't start with me," I warn them.

"Oh. Oh no we won't," Cato teases.

Marvel and Finn chuckle.

I shake my head, smiling. "Come on, let's go home."

"Whatever you say, lover boy." Marvel says.

* * *

"Hey sweetheart," mom exclaims from the kitchen as I enter the house. She's cooking something, as a mouth-watering smell fills the living room.

"Hey mom!" I chirp, "What's going on? Why are you home so early?"

"Oh. Well I took a day off," she says.

_A day off? Well that's unusual._

But I only shrug it off. "Okay. Good thing you did, you need to rest too, you know?"

A small smile forms her lips. _Something's not right here, _I think. _She doesn't even like taking days-off, much less cook something in the kitchen._

"Mom, is something wrong?" I ask softly.

"No sweetheart, I'm fine," she replies reassuringly while stirring the contents of her lamb stew.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes." She says. "How was school?"

_Subject change. Typical mom._

I hesitate for a moment before answering her question. Partly because I am sure something's wrong with my mom, and mainly because I'm not sure I wanted to talk to her about what happened at school today.

"It was alright, I guess." I shrug. "First days always suck." I lie.

"Hmm." Mom eyes me suspiciously.

"What?" I question.

Mom chuckles and shakes her head. "Nothing. Now go on up to your room and get changed, I need you to help me with the baking."

I beam at her. I've never really baked anything _ever_ with my mom, so this excites me.

"Okay!" I jump up from where I sit and jog excitedly to my room.

As I walk out of my room, I hear hushed a hushed conversation between mom and dad. Some things I can make up, but others I can't. I don't know what they're talking about, but I stay at my spot just by my bedroom door and try to listen to their chatter.

"I just don't know what to tell them, Rob." Mom says in a hushed tone, she sounds like she's crying.

My dad just heaves a heavy sigh. "Listen, I'll try talking to them after dinner, all right? Everything's going to be all right, Suz. I promise."

And then a short pause occurs. I hear my mom sniffling. It just breaks my heart to hear her like this. _What's wrong?_

Just as I am about to walk into the kitchen, my dad speaks up again, making me stop dead in my tracks.

The next six words he mutters come to me like a huge tidal wave, knocking me out of my senses.

And my breath.

Because these words are not what I wanted to hear _ever_ from him. For it'll be sure to kill me.

"We need to close the bakery."

With that statement, I run back hurriedly to my room, where I cry and cry for what seems to be like an eternity.

* * *

**A/N:**** That last sentence there? *Sensitive baker issues* hahah I'm kidding. So yeah basically I just wanted to add yet another twist in this story, and also I want to put Peeta's family on focus in this story as well because if I only did a pure Peeta/Katniss story, it would be boring and typical, so I just wanted to add Peeta's family in the mix. **

**So, yeah that's about it and I hope you guys enjoyed reading! Thanks again for the feedbacks and such, I _really, really _appreciate all of them! **

**Bye bye for now! xo**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:**Wooh! Finally got this chapter finished! I'm terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly sorry I haven't updated in a while guys! I've been hit with a severe case of Tempo Disorder Congitiva better known as _laziness. _Yes, I know I promised to update frequently but Mr. TDC right here kept hitting me right in the gut. But anyway, hey, here's a new chapter for you guys! I hope you enjoy and please feel free to leave a review! xo

* * *

No one bothers me for the next two days.

After running into my room and bawling like a little kid, my parents came up to my room to see what happened. I told them, through loud wracks of sobs, that I heard their conversation and that _I don't want them to do it._ My dad just looked at me with an aggrieved expression painted on his face. "I know you don't want to do this, dad. Just please, _please don't close the damn bakery!_" I pleaded, practically screamed it on my father's face. I couldn't help it- the anger, the sadness, the pain, every other sad emotion imaginable has been welled up in me that day and I just wanted, _needed _to let it all out. My parents silently watched as their youngest son was breaking down in front of them. I know it hurt them, but I just, like I said, needed to let it all out.

After a while, I managed to calm down and listened to their side of the story.

They told me-explained to me that the number of sales has plummeted; our daily customers haven't been buying bread from us anymore-and if they have, they would buy only a couple. They also told me that the costs of labor and materials have skyrocketed, and that the debts are piling up. So they decided to close the bakery down.

Yesterday I told my buddies what happened two days prior, I told them I needed some time to think the situation out. They said they understand, so they try to at least distance themselves away from me for a while. But I still went to school, of course.

Someone still does bother me though; but I try to keep her out of this situation. It is complicated enough that my life is going downhill because of the bakery closing-and pretty fast I must say-and trying to get this girl like me back.

No, that isn't my number one priority right now. My number one priority is to try and help my parents raise money, even just a little bit, to open the bakery again. I don't care how difficult it is, or how long it might take me, I just need to _damn well_ raise some money to help my parents get the bakery up and running again.

Because it is the one thing that helped my dad get back on track, start fresh.

It is the only thing he found solace on, his personal sanctuary.

It is the only thing that got him back from his severe state of depression nine years ago, when my grandfather died.

And I intend on getting it back. For my dad.

Because if I don't, I'm afraid I might lose him again.

But this time I might lose him for good.

* * *

_"Daddy, what's wrong?" I ask him softly, holding out my hand to touch his. But he flinches away as soon as he senses what I am about to do. _

_ He is crying and shaking, he looks so out of it._

_ I've never seen him like this before; he was always so full of energy, so full of life, it's just so unusual for him to be acting like this. Especially in front of his children._

_ "Mommy?" I turn to her, brows creased. "Mommy, what's wrong with daddy?"_

_ My mom sighs and tucks in loose strands of her bleach blonde locks behind her ears. Her expression is the same as my dad's, but the tears are more prominent in her cheeks, leaving its tracks on her made-up face. "Peeta," she starts, her voice shaking, "Peeta, Grandpa Frank is..." A short pause, then she continues,"he's-he's gone to heaven now."_

_ It takes some time for me to swallow the information in. I'm confused at first, but as moments pass by, I clearly understand what she means._

_ My grandfather's dead._

_ "You-you mean...he's an angel now?" I ask her, trying my best to keep the tears from flowing. But my voice fails me, because it is shaky._

_ "Yes, yes sweetheart," mom sobs, "he's an angel now." She strokes my back as I cry in her shoulders, not believing anything that I heard a few minutes ago._

_ "Bu-but," I say through loud sobs, "but...why? Why mom? WHY?" I demand, shouting and shaking her shoulders, but no answer is forthcoming. So me, my mom and my dad just get into a sincere hug and cry our grief into each other's shoulders. _

_ Because it is the only thing we are capable of doing right now. Because we're each other's rock, our shoulders to cry on. Because we're all broken._

_ But overall, my dad is the one who gets the hardest blow of all of us because of two reasons: First, Grandpa Frank is his dad, and second, is because it is my dad's birthday today. _

_ I never really knew what caused my grandpa's death, nor am I intending to know any time soon. No, I don't want to._

_ Because up 'til now I am still in denial about his death._

* * *

I wake up a few minutes before my alarm is set to go off.

I groggily trudge my way to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for school. I still am not in any mood whatsoever to go there, for reasons very obvious and painful to point out again. I lazily turn the shower knob on its medium setting, not too hot, not too cold. Just right. I stay in the shower for a good half an hour, until my brother Bry decides to heavily pound on the door telling me to "Hurry up!" I jump at the loud banging sound of the door and hastily wipe myself off and put my bathrobe on, almost slipping when I get off the bathtub.

"About time," he says when I get out, clearly annoyed. "You've been in there for five thousand years."

"Shut the fuck up Bry, I'm not in the mood," I say sternly as I walk into my bedroom.

My comment must have gotten to him somehow, because as I am about to lock my door he runs up to me and pins me to my bedroom wall, fury painted all over his features. I have never seen this side of him before, and even though I know I should be afraid, I just smirk at him. "What the _fuck _is your fucking problem, huh kid?"

I grin at his question, but not a happy grin, more like a devilish grin. "It's none of your _fucking _business, Bry." I retort with a flat tone.

"It is of my fucking business because you are _my_ _brother! _What the fuck happened to you, huh? You've been this way since dad said he was gonna close the bakery. We all know he has to close it sometime soon! We do know that, he warned us!"

"Yes he did, I know he did, because I was there when he said it! I was there every _damn fucking time _he said something about the bakery. You know why? You wanna fucking know why I was? Because the bakery is fucking important to me, too! Because I know the reason why he opened it in the first place! Do you, huh? Do you know why he opened the bakery?" I ask furiously, my eyes locked into his.

"Of course I fucking do, he wanted to have a family business!"

"NO! That's not the reason _at all, _Bry! He opened the goddamn bakery because he was fucking depressed when grandpa died! He didn't only do it for grandpa, he also did it for himself, you moron! And you weren't even there, _both of you, _when we found out about it! Why, huh? WHY WEREN'T YOU THERE FOR DAD?" The tears are falling freely down my cheeks now, but I don't care. He needs to know this, all of it.

"BECAUSE I WAS A KID, PEETA! I WAS FUCKING AFRAID!"

"SO WAS I! I WAS A KID, TOO! I WAS YOUNGER THAN _YOU, _FOR FUCK'S SAKE! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I DID? I SUCKED IT UP AND BECAME A MAN ABOUT IT BECAUSE DAD NEEDED SOMEONE'S SHOULDER TO CRY ON, AND IT WAS ME AND MOM! IT WAS JUST ME AND MOM, BRYCE! ' ! BOTH OF YOU!"

Bry's eyes grow wide and his grip on me loosens when he notices that I am crying. He sits at the edge of my bed, hands cupping his face. It's clear to see that he is crying now as well, and his uncharacteristic manner takes me aback. "I'm sorry Peet, I-I didn't know. I'm so sorry," he says sincerely through fits of sobs before he decides to get up and hug me. We stand here locked in an embrace for what seems to be like an eternity, and the feeling is very strange, very...

...out of the ordinary.

But to be honest, it feels great to finally tell one of my brothers something I have been keeping from them for years.

Not long after, I hear footsteps running up to my bedroom, and I see mom burst into my room. "What is going on here? What's all the shouting about?" She asks, panicked when she sees Bry and me with puffy noses and red eyes.

"Nothing, mom." I say comfortingly, holding her shaking shoulders to calm her down. "Mom?"

She's staring at my wall blankly, and I snap my fingers to wake her up from her trance. She always has this habit of zoning out when she's scared or panicked. "Are you sure you boys are okay here?"

"Yeah, mom, we're fine." Bry smiles, "we were just having a little guy talk, is all."

Mom forces a small smile, but she still looks worried. "Alright, if you boys need anything, just tell me, okay?"

I mirror her smile, "we will, mom. Don't worry about us, we're big boys now. Aren't we, Bry?" I say, slapping my brother's back, but only softly.

Bryce looks at me and chuckles, "yeah, yeah we are."

Mom says something but I really couldn't make it out, and she walks out of my room.

None of us talk for a short while, but Bry breaks the silence.

"Ready to go to school, bud?" he asks.

I hesitate for a moment, but soon after laugh quietly at him and say, "Yeah... Yeah, let's go."

I'm in no mood to drive to school today, so I just asked Bry to drop me off to school.

"Have fun out there!" He teases, flashing his toothy grin.

"Oh I wish," I mutter back in response, which makes him laugh softly.

"Don't worry, two more months of this," he says, waving his hand around in a grand gesture, "and you'll be outta here."

"Two moths is still a long time, Bry," I respond.

"Not if you're having fun...well, have fun kid!" he winks, driving off speedily back home.

_Right._

I lazily walk my way to my school. _What day is it today? _I check my school calendar and see it is day 6, which means...

I feel a huge lump come up in my throat as I process the information.

_English class. _

Katniss is in my English class.

I debate with myself if whether or not I'll just skip the class _yet again_ (I skipped the previous day and the day before that). A part of me wants to, but majority of my brain and body tells me otherwise, mainly because of two reasons: First, English is one of my favourite subjects, and I can't afford to miss a class anymore, _and_ Mr. Jones is a great teacher. Plus, we're reading A Midsummer Night's dream for our novel discussion – I always loved that book. Second, I get to see Katniss, and although I kind of don't want to talk to her, the fact that seeing her face and her smile again (if she does) appeases me, and that reason alone makes the good outweigh the bad.

I mean, it's not that I'm not in the mood to talk to her, it's just that I'm _ashamed _to (because I did not even bother to call her back when she called me a few times these past two days). So, yeah, I don't know how she'll react when she sees me.

Maybe she'll slap me hard across the face.

I'll take it, because well, I know I deserve it.

So now I make my way to my class, not even stopping by my locker to take some of my stuff. I see Cato, Marvel and Finn by the guy's washroom, and I give them a curt wave and flash them a small smile to let them know that I'm getting better. The looks on their faces say "whew".

I take my seat in my usual spot and bow my head down to take a short nap. It's still too early for anyone to be coming to class, so it is okay (I guess) to just do it.

A few minutes later, however, I feel someone tapping me on my shoulder and calling for my name. The voice sounds vaguely familiar but my brain is still too woozy and preoccupied with sleep to make up who it is. I groan when the person still repeatedly taps me on my shoulder. _Stop it, I'm taking a nap in here._

I give up and come around a little while later to make the person stop from annoying me. I massage my eyes and bring them back to focus and check what time it is. It's ten minutes to nine. _Okay good, ten minutes to spare. _

I look around to make out who tapped me annoyingly in the shoulder a while ago. I stare at each and every face intently. When no one seems to have done it, have not been the culprit, I shout to the whole class, "Who was tapping me while I was taking a nap?"

All eyes-29 pairs of them are trained on me now, looking curiously at the boy who wasn't here the past two days. They don't seem to budge, and none of them seem to have done it, so I ask again: "WHO—"

"I did," a girl exclaims. Her voice is the same one as the girl who called my name numerous times while I was on my nap.

Wait...

Of course it is, you stupid bloody idiot.

I whip around to see who it was, and to my surprise (not really), it was Katniss.

I immediately shut my mouth and keep them closed as she walks to her chair five spots away to my right.

But not really.

When she gets to her chair, she takes all of her stuff and moves toward the empty spot next to mine. As soon as she takes her seat, I start to get really anxious and sweaty and my throat feels like sandpaper.

Why is she here?

She breaks the awkward silence between us first as she clears her throat. "So," she starts, "what happened to you these past few days?"

_I don't wanna talk about it. _"Oh, uhm," I clear my throat, "just some things—"I trail off.

"Huh. Things like?"

_Damn it, woman. I don't wanna talk about it with you._

"Stuff-family stuff, personal stuff, just...stuff."

"Oh," she pauses for a short while. "I'm sorry I asked," she says with a look of concern on her face.

I give her a small smile and laugh softly, "It's okay, it's... not your fault."

She chuckles quietly to herself and then tells me, "I'm so sorry I bothered you, I must've been super annoying."

"Heh. To tell you the truth you were kind of annoying, but it's okay. Thanks for doing that, by the way, shows you actually are concerned about me," I tease, waggling my eyebrows at her.

She punches me lightly on the forearm, "Of course I am, you jerk, I'm your friend, too!"

That puts a grin on my face, "Thanks, never really knew that, but thanks!"

She is the only person who can make me smile like this without even trying, it's one of the many things I love about her.

"Duh. Anytime, nerd."

"So, for Fri—"

And then the bell rings signaling the morning exercise.

"What was that?" She asks after it's finished.

"Oh. I just wanted to ask you about Friday."

Her brows furrow in thinking, and for a split second I get nervous if she doesn't remember about our game.

"OH. Right! Yeah, I'm all good for it, are you?"

"Oh, bring it."

"Think you're gonna beat me, huh?"

"Not really...well, kind of," I tease.

"Well let's see about that, Mellark." She smirks.

"Okay class, time to take out your Midsummer books and read for half an hour, you should be by the end of Act II, Scene I, after that, we would have a short quiz and we would talk about your projects due two weeks from now." Mr. Jones announces to the whole class and we grunt in response.

"Another project, Mr. Jones?" Ethan whines.

"Yes, Mr. Clapton, and if you don't hand it in by the assigned due date, you won't be graduating in time, so don't even think about not doing it."

The whole class lets out a collective "ooh" and Ethan sinks lower in his seat in embarrassment.

"Now, take out your books so we can get on with it, will you?"

We oblige and take out our books.

"What's wrong with him today? He seems oddly out of character," I whisper to Katniss, who chuckles at me. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," she responds, "just...'oddly out of character'? Really?"

"Oh shush, I'm expanding my vocabulary," I laugh quietly.

"Whatever you say, mister nerdy pants!" She mocks, sticking her tongue out at me.

The day went by really fast, and to be honest I was really disappointed it did. Since I didn't bring my car with me today, I called home to check if anyone can pick us (me and my buddies) up. Nick was there, and so he volunteered to do so.

"Feeling better now, buddy?" Marvel asks while we're waiting for Nick.

I smile at him, "Yeah, much better now actually, thanks."

He beams back at me, "That's good, glad you're back man."

"Thanks, bud, me too."

And then Nick arrives.

* * *

I have no home works (well, apart from reading AMND), so I decide to paint again, just for the heck of it.

I run down to the basement to get a canvas and some paint. I really don't know what to draw yet, so I just took a bunch of paint and dragged them upstairs to my room. I prop the canvas unto my canvas stand and start thinking about a picture when my phone suddenly buzzes.

I jump into my bed and grab my phone to check who messaged me.

My eyes open wide when I see who sent it.

Katniss.

I open the message quickly and read it:

_Hey nerd, I'm so sorry but I couldn't make it on Friday._

My heart literally dropped to my stomach, but I reply urgently,

_Oh, it's okay, we can do it some other time maybe?_

It takes only a minute for her to reply,

_Okay, sure. _

I'm about to reply when my phone buzzes again.

_But you can still come here, I mean, I'm babysitting my sister and my parents won't be home so...yeah, I need someone to help me with this whole baby/changing diaper thing._

My ears perk up at her message and excitedly reply:

_Oh, okay, that would be great, but I've no experience with babies though..._

_ Whatever, see you Friday nerd! Don't be late, or worse, don't ditch out on me! Be here at seven! Thanks! Xo_

I feel a grin creep on my face as I type my message:

_Yeah...okay, if something happens to your baby sister it's your fault... and, it's a friendly date? ;)_

_ :o shush! No it's not! Lol. Just, a friend coming over alright? Nothing else! And fine!_

_ Hahahh, I was jk. See you!_

_ Alright, nerd, see you._

I lock my phone and leave it in my bed.

Now I know what to paint.

Katniss holding a baby.

And then, I'll give it to her. She'll love it for sure.

Damn, Peet, you're not as dumb as I thought you were.

* * *

**Side comment:**I really dislike the fact that ff dot net deleted one of my favourite stories just because it had an M rating, but it doesn't even have smut in it! I think it's unfair that they (ff) did that and just didn't even consider the fact that there are a lot of people who read M rated stories and enjoy it. It makes me so mad!

So yeah, because of this, I have decided to make a wattpad account. My username is arlf_ (2 underscores). So if you want, come check it out! Thank you!


	10. Chapter 9

A/N:** Oh my goodness! Finally managed to finish this one! I think this is the second longest chapter I have written yet (correct me if I'm wrong), and so I apologize for any typo/grammar errors. By the way, for this chapter, it's a mix of Katniss and Peeta POVs, and also, Prim isn't twelve years old on this one, she's a baby (like a toddler baby). So, yes that's about it. Enjoy!**

* * *

My room strongly smells of paint after two plus hours of trying—and miserably failing—to sketch Katniss holding a baby. The portrait of Katniss was almost too impossible to do (because she's beautiful like that), let alone with a baby, but I did it. Suffice to say it was pretty good- not the best, but nearly there.

I think I wasted four canvasses on one painting alone, but it was worth it. It is, after all, for Katniss- the one and only love of my life even though she doesn't know she is and she won't know it ever because I would never tell and the reasons being are because I'm too scared to tell her my feelings and/or because Gale might beat me for it not that I'm afraid of him I just don't want to have another concussion well oops you caught me there I am slightly afraid and/or she might drift away from me and/or the worst of it all is she might act like she doesn't even know me or never even knew me at all but a part of me advises me to tell her because well she _is _the one and only love of my life and because there`s this small spark inside of me that makes me feel as though she does like me back but she's too scared to admit it too because she has Gale and Gale is hers and they're both head over heels in love with each other I mean I guess so because they always kiss and hug each other and do other things couples usually do in public and wow holy shit this has been a series of shitty run-on sentences I apologize I just wanted to let you all know how I truly feel about this complicated situation I am in more famously known as _Peeta Mellark:_ _My Life In (Hopelessly and Irrevocably_) _Love._

Whew.

Yup. Thank you for reading that, by the way. (And yes, I kind of am planning on writing a small book about me being in love...

...just kidding I don't have the patience to do that.)

Anyway, I let my painting dry in our garage which no one in our family _ever_ _actually_ uses (except for me), because they're all busybodies- running around for errands and unexpected changes for work times. I legitimately and sincerely feel sorry for them because they don't even have proper time to rest well (apart from having days-off or sick leaves). Especially for Mom because she'd now be for sure working arduously double, if not triple time to sustain our lifestyle and keep this family healthy, but Nick is here– at least for an undetermined amount of time because who knows, he might move out tomorrow or next week to start his own family too for all I know, but I don't blame him, he's an old guy now –so he could help with bills and stuff. I would, too, if only I had a job.

Which reminds me, I _need _to look for a job. I've submitted a couple of resumes here and there before, just for the expense of leisure, and, being the unlucky guy that I am, got no call backs. I decide to do it again at this time, but suddenly, my brain and body shuts off like a lamp, and I am now extremely tired. No surprise there, because when I look at the clock, it reads 2:47 am. So, I decide against it. Putting it off for another day won't hurt, will it? And plus, I've got school tomorrow.

And my friendly date with Katniss.

Haha.

Anyway, goodnight and don't let the bed bugs fight.

I mean, bite.

See what exhaustion does to you? Unbelievable.

Alright, lights off. Goodnight to you and to me.

* * *

"IT'S FRIDAY, FRIDAY, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY! NANA NA NA, WHATEVER WEEKEND, WEEKEND!" Bry burst into my room singing loudly–and very off-key, I must add–that I woke up from my deep slumber and shrieked at the top of my lungs like a little girl. And Bry, being the douchey big brother that he is, laughs maniacally that he _almost _falls into my bed, avoiding the instance wherein he might have gone down on me (that sounded sexual, but no, that's not what I meant), and crushing my already injured hip that I got from playing hardcore basketball.

"BRYCE! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I shout annoyingly as soon as I come to, voice hoarse, but eyes still really, really heavy. "I don't even have to wake up until..." I shoot a quick glance at my clock with narrowed eyes, which reads 4:37 am, "until three freaking hours from now! What the hell man?"

"SSHHHH! Don't shout buddy, you'll wake up the others!" He responds cautiously, putting a finger in my mouth.

"You should have told yourself that before you came bustling in to my room like a maniac!" I retort.

"Woah, calm down man, what's wrong with you now mister grumpy pants?"

"It's 4:37 in the morning for crying out loud! Do I need to say any further explanations than that?"

Bry shrugs his shoulders like he doesn't know the answer, and he waits for my response.

I wave my hand dismissively and slump back into the comforts of my bed, pulling the sheets over me, and ignoring the fact that my nosey brother is in my room, with plans of waking me up again in .97 milliseconds.

But he doesn't, instead I could feel my bed spring slightly up, the pressure of Bry's position freeing itself from his heavy weight. I could also hear him yawn as his lazy footsteps drag their way loudly on my floor, walking out of my room.

My family is so weird.

I wake up exactly two hours after my brother's rather disturbing show, and so I try to go back to sleep again, but my eyes are wide open and awake and I just feel so... how do I say this, _giddy. _I don't know why I do but I just feel so good, so excited, like something amazing is going to happen today.

Wait. Oh right.

I'm babysitting Katniss' baby sister with none other than (drum roll please)... Katniss today! (Can I get a 'whoop whoop?')

Yup, this is going to be a good day.

Well, time to get ready then.

* * *

As usual, school is a flipping drag. Nothing special actually happens during school days, except maybe if there are pep rallies and/or spirit week celebrations going on around. Other days, however, are just plain boring and bland. The day is fully based on routine (which, if you ask me, sucks big time)-first period, ten-minute break, second period, another ten-minute break, lunch hour (which is the _second_ most exciting time of the day, ask any kid in the hallways), third period, ten-minute break, fourth period, ten-minute break, fifth period, and then dismissal (which is _the _most exciting part of the day, I guess that's obvious and don't need any surveys to prove so).

Therefore, I will not bore you with school stuff; I think you've had enough of that already.

Don't worry though, there's only five minutes left of school.

After dismissal, I bump into Katniss running hurriedly to her locker. "Hey," I exclaim.

"Oh, hey," she answers. "You coming later?"

"Yeah, it's just that... I don't know where–"

"Oh. Right!" And she tells me her address.

"Okay, see you later nerd!" She beams.

"Yup, see ya," I wave at her.

* * *

As soon as I get home, I rush to my bedroom to take a short nap. I feel so lightheaded and dizzy. Having only eaten grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast and none for lunch _and _running on only two hours of sleep, I needed it. I make a mental note to myself to eat something heavy before going to Katniss' tonight.

But as soon as I wake up, the clock already reads 6:40 pm. _Shit, shit, shit. _I quickly take a shower and slip into a comfortable pair of sweatpants, a Montreal Canadiens t-shirt and a fleece hoodie because it is cold out today. I finish getting ready in a record time of ten minutes.

I peep out my window and see that a fresh blanket of snow has covered the road. _Canadian spring never ceases to surprise me every time._ I make a mad dash out the door, stopping to tell my parents where I'll be going. They become skeptical when I tell them I was going to Katniss', and so I explain to them that she needs help with babysitting. The conversation goes on for a mere five minutes until they finally let me go. Before I could make it out the door, Dad yells at me to be careful because the roads are bound to be very slippery tonight. I shout "okay" back in response.

I arrive at Katniss' house exactly thirteen minutes after seven.

"You're late," she says seriously when she opens the door and sees me, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Sorry, it's just...the road was...I'm sorr–"but she cuts me off.

"I was kidding!" She chuckles. "Come in, you look miserable," she leads me to their living room.

"Thanks," I mutter. "Nice house, by the way."

It really is-sky blue walls, pristine white floors, and modernly furnished everything. Their house is 76375 times much better than ours.

"Oh, thanks," she responds, offering me a cup of hot chocolate, "come on, take a seat! Mi casa es su casa!"

I chuckle at that, and take a seat at the white leather box couch from across the fireplace. "So, where's..."

"Oh right! Prim?"

"Yeah, is that her name? It's a pretty name," I muse.

"I _know, _much better than Katniss. Euck!"

"Hey don't say that, Katniss is a beautiful name, too! I like it!"

I think she blushes at my statement because she looks away from me. _Very nice, Peeta. Four for you, Peeta. _ I smile.

"I'll just..." She says, pointing at a room behind her.

"Oh of course, please, it's your house not mine."

And with that she goes jogging off to the room. She comes back out a few minutes later cradling a baby.

_Wow. She looks amazing._

I stay seated in the couch while she walks toward the living room. She puts baby Prim in her crib carefully but she starts wailing loudly. Katniss looks confused and she cradles her again, rocking her cautiously back and forth. She hums a soft lullaby, which lulls baby Prim to sleep.

I watch in silent awe as Katniss cradles her baby sister. She looks so content and happy and peaceful, and the sight of it just knocks the air out of my lungs. Both she and her sister look immaculate.

I snap out of my trance when she asks me something. I clear my throat and ask, "Sorry?"

She smiles her sweet smile again. "I said would you like to come and hold her?"

"Oh, uhh, I don't know...I um, yeah sure, o-okay." And I walk up to her silently.

She hands baby Prim to me, but I whisper, "I really don't know how to hold a baby."

She doesn't say anything, instead she just helps me hold Prim properly- lying Prim down on my forearm, making me slide my other hand under Prim's slightly bent legs and support the bottom with my hand. I let Prim's delicate head rest in the crook of my arm. From one side, I let my forearm support her torso while the other side is cuddled to my stomach. Through all of this, I let Katniss move my arms like a robot.

"There," she mutters. With her sister's soft voice, baby Prim's eyelids flutter open and she laughs but only softly. Her eyes are a soft shade of grey, like her sister's. I'm afraid she might start wailing again, so I rock her carefully. Prim goes back to her peaceful sleep. "You're a natural at this," she whispers to me.

I don't want to wake Prim up so I just smile and shake my head. _Not really._

She smiles at my response, and she excuses herself to go to the bathroom, in which I nod.

After a little more than five minutes, Katniss comes back and I hand little Prim back to her sister, who sets her down to her crib. Prim shuffles for a bit, making herself comfortable in her new abode, and then lets out a little yawn, going back to her angelic sleep.

* * *

**KATNISS POV**

"You're a natural at this," I whisper to Peeta. He smiles his sweet smile at me which makes my heart melt and shakes his head, as if saying, _not really._

_ Yes, really_, I think.

Seeing Peeta hold Prim like that overwhelms me. I haven't heard my sister laugh like that when she's being held by some stranger-even with Gale. Even though he comes around here almost every day, Prim doesn't seem to like Gale and she cries every time he holds her in his arms.

But with Peeta, it's different. It's like Prim has known him for a very long time now. She snuggles herself into Peeta's body-which she only does with my Dad or Mom. She seems at ease with him, and vice versa.

I look at Peeta who's looking at my sister, his exquisite pair of cerulean eyes boring into my sister's tiny frame. He looks at her lovingly, and I can't help but smile at the sight.

The scene in front of me is just so beautiful.

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, but really, I make my way to my bedroom to grab my phone and sneakily take a picture of Peeta and Prim. After I take the picture and compose myself, I walk back to the living room where Peeta hands Prim back to me carefully, and I put her down cautiously on her crib. She shuffles for a bit, lets out a little yawn, and goes back to sleep.

_Good girl._

* * *

**PEETA POV**

Katniss and I sit back down in the couch, and she turns on the TV while I sip some hot chocolate which has now cooled down a little. She impatiently flips through the channels, frustrated that she can't watch anything good. When convinced that there are no good shows being aired right now, she turns off the TV and heaves a loud sigh.

Well, this is going to be very awkward.

"So," she starts, breaking the unearthly silence between us two.

"So..." I mutter back.

"What's up with you?" She asks.

"Nothing much really, just school and stuff..."

"Stuff, huh?"

"Yeah."

When she gets tired of waiting for me to talk further, she grabs my hand and pats it softly. I flinch a little. "Come on, we're friends. Tell me."

"I-I don't know..."

"Peeta Andrew Mellark, I swear to God, I won't tell anyone." She stares at me, her grey eyes boring into mine, piercing into my soul. She looks sincere, and I figure she won't tell anyone, so I slowly open my mouth to talk.

"It's just..." I pause, not really knowing how to start. I haven't opened up to anyone other than my three buddies. This...talking to a girl thing is just so weird for me. For one, I'm not a girl. Secondly, I'm afraid she might laugh at me.

She waits earnestly, not taking her stare off me.

"My dad...he's...he's going to close the bakery." I finally let out, a small gasp making its way out of my lips.

Katniss claps her mouth with her free hand. "Oh, Peeta... I'm so sorry," she says softly.

I shrug it off like it's no big deal, but inside, I'm broken. I want to cry, but I can't.

My tear ducts fail me, however, because trickles of tears make their way out of my eyes.

Without a second's hesitation, Katniss envelopes me in a hug. I feel like a little kid again, sobbing uncontrollably into my mom's warm body. Except she isn't my mom, and I'm not a little kid. She doesn't seem to mind though, as she rubs small circles in my back. "Peeta, it's going to be okay," she whispers into my ear. Her voice sounds so angelic, so soothing. And her scent is so mild and good, there is no way I would be the first one to let go.

But the thing that pulls us out of our little moment is little Prim's loud cries. Katniss lets go first, and she goes bounding off for her little sister. Now I know how Prim feels when she craves for attention, and I can't help but feel the same way-longing. Katniss carefully rocks baby Prim back and forth, but her cries don't stop.

"I think she wants milk," I say, not realizing my voice is gone.

"Huh?"

I clear my throat and try again, "I think she wants milk."

"Oh. Right. Um, can you hold her for a bit?"

"Yeah, of course." And she hands little Prim to me.

"Hey, sweet girl," I whisper to her, "shh, don't worry, your milk's coming soon." I smile at her whilst rocking her back and forth.

It seems to work, because she slowly stops crying. She looks up at me, and a small smile creeps into her small face.

"There you go, good girl," I beam.

"Here you go, Primmy-" she stops when she doesn't hear Prim's loud wailing and looks at me in bewilderment, "How did you do that?"

"I don't know," I smile. "I guess I am a natural at this, after all."

She nods her head and chuckles. "Yeah, you are."

Katniss sets the milk bottle on the couch and I hand little Prim to her. Not long after, she starts whimpering again.

"Okay, okay, shh. Here's your milk, Primmy." I give Katniss the bottle and little Prim sucks on the bottle's nipple.

Little Primmy loves her milk.

Katniss doesn't lay Prim down in her crib, instead, she sits down with little Prim cradled in her arms. "I think she likes this better," she says. "The crib is just scaring her."

"Where's she gonna sleep then?"

"In the couch."

"Why?"

"Because the crib scares her."

"Oh. Right."

After about thirty minutes, little Primmy finally goes back to sleep, and Katniss lays her down in the loveseat, where she is surrounded by a stack of pillows. "I don't want her to fall down," she reiterates.

"Of course," I say.

"So," she plops down in the couch, "where were we?"

"Well..." I shake my head, "I was crying like a baby."

She laughs. "Yes, you were."

"I'm so sorry about that," I chuckle. "That must have been the weirdest thing you've ever seen in your entire life."

"No, don't apologize, makes you seem manlier when you cry." She wriggles her eyes.

"Haha! Well, thanks... I guess?"

"No worries. I'm your friend, Peeta. You can tell me anything."

"As long as you don't tell anybody about it. Deal?"

"Deal."

We shake hands and pinky promise. "Remember," I say, "pinky promises are legit, alright?"

"I know," she chortles.

A long awkward pause settles in, but now I'm the one who breaks the silence.

"Okay. Now..."

"Uh-oh, what is it?"

"I know this is a personal question and it's perfectly fine if you don't answer but, how's things with you and Gale?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and she fiddles with the hem of her shirt like it's the most interesting thing there ever is.

"I'm sorry," I immediately say, face flushing with what I could only call shame. "I'm sorry, that was way too personal, and I shouldn't have asked you that. Disregard the question."

"No, no. It's fine," she finally utters, "it's fine, I bugged you about your problem, it's only fair." She beams.

"But Katniss, that was different," I respond cautiously.

"A problem is a problem, Peeta, there's no difference in that."

I sigh and agree, but I tell her that if she doesn't want to tell me about everything, it's okay. She nods her head in agreement.

"Gale and I aren't in good terms right now," she says bluntly. She looks at me for a response, but I just wait, so she continues. "A few weeks back I saw him outside the bar with his buddies and some _whores_, smoking who knows what. I called him the next day and asked him where he'd been the night before. He just said 'out with some buddies', and so I told him I know, that I saw him, and you know what he did?" She asks. I shake my head no. "He laughed. The bastard just laughed _at me," _she croaks, tears falling freely down her face. "The son of a bitch just fucking laughed at me!"

The loud sobs are violently wracking her body now, and I can't help but mimic what she had done to me earlier-envelope her in a hug. Her whole body is shaking, and it seems like she won't stop crying any time soon. So I rub small circles in her back, just like what she did to me a while ago. When she seems to have calmed down, I look at her-eyes and nose red.

I jokingly tell her that she looks like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, what with her red puffy nose. She laughs at that and leans her head into my shoulder.

"I'm just so tired of him and his douche-y antics," she says.

My mouth must have a mind of its own because literally a second later I just blurt out, "You should break up with him. You deserve better than that twat."

She looks up at me in surprise, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

"I-I...I didn't mean to say that, just... I don't know why I said that...shit. I'm sorry, I just–"

But she cuts me off, chuckling, "No you're right," she says determinedly. "I should, shouldn't I?"

"I-I...I mean, if he hurts you that way I mean, there's no reason not to...just, yeah."

She seems to ponder this for a moment, and nods her head. "You know what, you're right. I do deserve better than this twat." She smiles.

Inwardly, I heave a sigh of relief. _Thank goodness she finally opened her eyes._

"Thanks," she says out of the blue.

I look at her questioningly, "for what?"

"This. I needed it."

I smile at her. "Hey, we're friends, you can tell me everything."

She mirrors my smile, "I know, thank you so much."

And then she kisses my cheek.

I think my cheeks get flushed with beet red color, and Katniss chuckles at my state.

Not too long after, her phone vibrates in her pocket. "I think it's my parents, um excuse me," she says.

"Okay, do you want me to go?"

"No, not yet. They'll probably just check on me. Stay. Please." Her voice is pleading.

"Okay, just tell me if I need to go," I respond.

A few minutes later, she stomps her way back to the living room. "They'll be home in twenty," she says.

"Do you want me to go?" I ask.

She sighs. "Yes. I'm sorry. And thank you!" Then she hugs me tight.

"No, don't worry about it!"

I check the clock, it's 10:30. "Besides," I start, "I should be on my way now too, my curfew's at 11."

"Still playing the good boy strategy, huh? Well that's refreshing."

"I have to, or else they'll take the car from me. Highly likely now too, with the bakery closing and all." My throat closes up at the last phrase.

Katniss frowns, "I'm so sorry about that."

"No, it's not your fault." I reassure her. "Oh, and by the way, I made something for you."

Her eyes open wide, "Really? What is it?"

"It's a painting..."

"You paint?" She genuinely looks surprised.

"Yes, surprising isn't it?"

"Very. Now where is it?"

I wince. "I left it at home, but I can give it to you some other time maybe?"

She wrinkles her nose and thinks about it for a second before she responds, "Okay. Better not forget about it."

"I won't, mum," and I make my way to the door.

"So, I'll see you Monday? At school, I mean?"

"Yeah, see you Monday!" I beam, pulling my hood up in anticipation for the cold wind that'll for sure blow me away when I get out the door.

"Okay."

I chuckle. "Okay."

And then she whips around, looking at something I can't quite see. "What is it?" I ask.

"It's Prim, she's crying again."

"Oh. Uh, can I kiss her goodnight?"

She looks at me pryingly, "Okay, sure. She seems to like you a lot. You know, I have _not_ heard her laugh like that when she's being held by a total stranger." She admits.

"Oh?"

"Yes. So that was pretty impressive. And you say you didn't have that much experience with kids?"

"That's absolutely true."

"Whatever," she chuckles. "Come on, Prim needs you."

"Okay." And I follow her to the living room.

I hold the wailing little Prim in my arms, careful not to break any bone in her body, and whisper to her, "Hey, sweet girl. Shh, I'll see you soon, okay?" And I kiss her forehead.

And then, as if by magic, she stops crying and she actually laughs. At me.

I shoot a quick glance at Katniss, who's chewing on her nails and suppressing a smile. I motion for her to come beside me so I could give little Primmy back, and she does. But not before she plants yet another kiss in my cheek.

"Wow," I mutter. "That's two points for me," I tease.

"Oh shut up." She slaps my forearm gently. "Gimme her."

And I do.

"I should probably be going now," I tell Katniss. "Since your parents will be home soon and my parents will flip shit if I don't get home by eleven."

"Oh, okay. Sure. Drive safe though, the roads are slippery!"

"Yup, thanks for the heads up! See you on Monday!"

She waves me goodbye and I make my way out of the door.

It is unbelievably cold tonight; I think the temperature plunged down to a negative. Whenever I breathe through my mouth, a small puff of smoke is let out. So I rush to my car, almost slipping on my behind but I manage to keep my balance. As soon as I get in my car, I turn the ignition on, heater on full blast, as I let the warm air relax me and stop my body from shuddering.

And I drive my way home.

Katniss and Dad are right, the roads _are _slippery. So I carefully manoeuvre my way, careful not to hit any cars parked by the road. I feel drowsy, so I fumble for the radio volume's dial. It's too dark in my car, so I really couldn't see where it's at, and I think I dropped my phone somewhere by the accelerator. _Shit._

I check the roads if it is clear of any traffic, and it is. So I blindly feel for my phone in the floormat, all the while looking to see every five seconds if there are any cars running up to me. When I am completely, one hundred percent sure that no one is, I look down blindly again, and alas, my phone is found.

But unfortunately, inopportune instances happen to unfortunate people.

Because as soon as I regain control on my steering wheel, a rather drunken idiot runs up to me with their fog lights on, making me swerve violently to the right where a massive tree is planted.

I feel my head being banged stalwartly to the steering wheel, my left foot pinned to the underside of my dashboard, and the worst of all, is I feel a stabbing pain on the left part of my chest.

And the rest is darkness.

* * *

**KATNISS POV**

As soon as I see Peeta drive his way back home, I slump down to the couch, thinking about how this night has been one of the best nights of my entire life.

It sounds teenager-y, I know, but he was just so...perfect.

And the way he held Prim was just...ugh. I can't even describe to you how it felt when I saw Peeta kiss Primmy's little forehead.

Amazing is an understatement, as well as remarkable, astounding, astonishing, etc.

It was just...pure bliss.

I snap out of my trance when I hear shuffling in the back door, and Mom and Dad come bustling in.

"So, how was dinner?" I ask Mom.

"It was perfect!" Mom happily says. Aww, she looks so cute when she does that. I'm really happy for them both.

"Hey Dad," I exclaim.

"Hey, kiddo!" He says, and he kisses the top of my head.

"How did babysitting Prim go? And did Peeta come?"

I feel myself blush, but I try to hide it. "It was good, and yeah he did."

Mom smiles at me, "You know, he's a thousand times better than Gale."

"Your Mom's right, I've met the fella, and he seems like a very nice young man."

"I know, he is." I tell them.

"Well? Dump Gale and go with him!" Mom exclaims.

I am about to answer her when I hear a loud crashing sound nearby, and little Primmy starts to cry.

I suddenly get nervous, and I start sweating. My heart beat's going faster.

I rush out the door, not minding the cold weather, and check what happened.

My heart sinks when I see a familiar yellow car pinned to the large oak tree just a few hundred feet away from our house.

_Peeta._

Without even thinking, I run my way-with no shoes on-to where Peeta's car is pinned. Smoke is coming out of every corner of the car.

My feet seem to have no intentions whatsoever on stopping, not until I see Peeta's bloodied body on the driver's seat.

It looks as if he's gasping for air, so I run up by the door and hold his hand. "Peeta," I whisper. "Peeta, it's me. It's Katniss."

He looks at me with clouded-over eyes; his face filled with blood. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," I answer, my voice cracking. "Hold on, I'll call 911, okay?"

He nods slightly as I call for an ambulance.

After calling for help, I hold his hand again, tightening my grip. Because if I don't he might slip away from me for good. "Hey, hold on okay? Help is coming very soon."

"Katniss," he whispers, his voice very hoarse, very different from how it was just over fifteen minutes ago.

"Yeah?" I ask through soft sobs.

"I'm sorry, I can't."

It only takes seconds for me to process what he meant.

"No. Peeta, no. Please, Peeta! STAY WITH ME PEETA PLEASE!" I hold his hand tighter now.

He casts an almost apologetic look at me.

And then, without a second's notice, I see his eyes roll back in his head as he passes out.

"PEETA!"

* * *

**A/N:**** Oh. My. Goodness! Well that part was very difficult to write. And I'm so sorry for doing this, I just felt the need to. Don't worry about the next update though, I've already started with it. And believe me if I say that it is going to be 5 times more difficult to write than this one, so please bear with me. I will try my best to write at least an hour or two (or three) everyday. But you know, some days are better than the others. But I will try to update within the next week, or next next week okay I'm rambling now. I hope you guys "enjoyed" reading this chapter. Goodnight! **


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:**** Sorry for the delay guys! I've been procrastinating a lot, but here it is! Enjoy!**

* * *

_..._

_"Well? Dump Gale and go with him!" Mom exclaims._

_ I am about to answer her when I hear a loud crashing sound nearby, and little Primmy starts to cry. _

_ I suddenly get nervous, and I start sweating. My heart beat's going faster._

_ I rush out the door, not minding the cold weather, and check what happened._

_ My heart sinks when I see a familiar yellow car pinned to the large oak tree just a few hundred feet away from our house._

_ Peeta._

_ Without even thinking, I run my way-with no shoes on-to where Peeta's car is pinned. Smoke is coming out of every corner of the car. _

_ My feet seem to have no intentions whatsoever on stopping, not until I see Peeta's bloodied body on the driver's seat. _

_ It looks as if he's gasping for air, so I run up by the door and hold his hand. "Peeta," I whisper. "Peeta, it's me. It's Katniss."_

_ He looks at me with clouded-over eyes; his face filled with blood. "Hey," he says._

_ "Hey," I answer, my voice cracking. "Hold on, I'll call 911, okay?"_

_ He nods slightly as I call for an ambulance._

_ After calling for help, I hold his hand again, tightening my grip. Because if I don't he might slip away from me for good. "Hey, hold on okay? Help is coming very soon."_

_ "Katniss," he whispers, his voice very hoarse, very different from how it was just over fifteen minutes ago. _

_ "Yeah?" I ask through soft sobs._

_ "I'm sorry, I can't."_

_ It only takes seconds for me to process what he meant. _

_ "No. Peeta, no. Please, Peeta! STAY WITH ME PEETA PLEASE!" I hold his hand tighter now._

_ He casts an almost apologetic look at me. _

_ And then, without a second's notice, I see his eyes roll back in his head as he passes out._

_ "PEETA!"_

* * *

**KATNISS POV (all the way through)**

"PEETA! WAKE UP! DON'T LEAVE ME, PLEASE!" My voice is frantic, pleading, miserable, and thick with overwhelming emotion. I'm shaking his lifeless body, slapping his face every five seconds, and even resorting on mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but nothing happens.

I am shaking emptiness.

But still I am persistent - shouting his name for only God knows how long, banging on his car door to try and wake him up even though I know it won't make any _goddamn_ difference, and I even cuss him out. _Wake the fuck up, Peeta Mellark! Wake up! WAKE UP! PLEASE! I FUCKING NEED YOU!_

One minute, two minutes, three minutes tick by and still, no ambulance is in sight. My Mom comes up to me and drapes a sleeved parka over my shoulders, rubbing my back while I frenziedly sob into her chest. I hug her with one arm, the other clutched into Peeta's in hopes of it bringing warmth back into him. Through all of this, Mom doesn't say anything, because she knows she _can't. _She can't say 'it's going to be okay', she can't say 'he's going to be alright', and she can't even say 'you're okay' because he's _dead. _Ironically enough, no comforting words can comfort me–not even from my Mom, who's best with soothing and comforting words–because I'm broken, and he'sthe only person who can make me okay again. The only person who can make me snap out of this misery is gone.

Dead and gone.

I might as well be as good as dead too.

A throng of people try to make their way into the horrible scene - gasping, placing their hands on their chests, and some older women are even crying. I don't know who they're crying for though. They might be crying for me - the helpless, desperate, red faced girl who won't leave her friend's side. Or they might be crying for Peeta - the poor boy whose body is lying stagnantly in the now crushed-like-a-tin-can car, blood covered on his face and body, the poor boy who is still lifelessly clinging on to his friend's grasp even though there is no air circulating in his lungs anymore.

Yes. They are for sure crying for Peeta.

I pull myself out of my Mom's embrace to crack one last feeble attempt at waking him up. I try shouting at him, but my voice fails me. It is hoarse and has _tired _resonating from it. So I grip his arm, shaking it slightly, and whisper his names several times. _Peeta, Peeta Andrew, Andrew, Peet, Andy (I made this one up), Mellark, Peeta Andrew Mellark. _I like saying his name. It just rolls out of my mouth smoothly.

Like how silk slides off from your grasp so effortlessly no matter how hard you hold on to it.

I let a tear or two run down my cheeks when a sudden realization hits me:

Peeta is the silk, and I am the person who so desperately holds on to him, even though I know he'll slip away from my grasp eventually.

So this is how it feels. This is how it feels like to lose someone so dear to you. That even though you try your hardest to hold on to that one person – a person so significant to you, they just slip away whenever they want to. Whenever they can.

_Don't be a fucking dick, Peeta! Come back to me, please._

_ Please, I need you._

I jump when I feel a sudden movement in my left hand, the one that is holding Peeta's. I let go of my Mom's grip and hastily pop my head in the car, cupping his face. "Peeta?" I whisper, but I receive no response. So I feel for his neckline, looking for a pulse. I place my index and middle fingers on the side of his neck, in the hollow between the windpipe and the large muscle in it.

Tears start to flow nonstop from my eyes when I finally have felt a subtle carotid pulse. Although the thumping isn't too strong, it's there. He's alive again.

_ He came back._

"Peeta," I mumble.

At the sound of his name, he takes in a gasping breath, his eyelids fluttering open slightly. The pupils in his eyes frantically look around, as if scared. His cerulean pair of irises looks clouded-over, but there is still a hint of light and warmth emanating from them – something only Peeta's exquisite pair of eyes can exude. He flinches slightly when I place my hand on his face, and he opens his mouth to talk.

"Katniss," he whispers. His voice is softer than the winter breeze.

I tell him not to talk, because I wanted him to save all his energy for when the ambulance comes, but he insists on talking.

"Katniss," he whimpers, blood running down the side of his mouth, "Katniss I can't feel my legs." His voice is palpable of worry and fear.

I wipe away the blood with my parka's sleeve. I feel a huge lump of something I can't make out make its way up my throat. This makes me worried, too. But I dare not show him how I feel, because if I do, he might panic and shut off on me permanently.

"Katniss, my hip–" he breathes, but I only shush him. I can't talk because I might break down in front of him, and the last thing he – and _I – _needs is more drama. He's already had more than enough of it for one day.

I'm not sure, but I think I hear him sobbing softly inside the car. I can feel myself unravel now too as I listen to his cries for help. I feel so useless and ineffective. The only thing – the least effective thing I can do for him right now is to hold his hand, praying that he won't give up again.

A few more minutes later, I could finally hear sirens blaring from somewhere in our neighbourhood. I straighten up and look around; frantically I make out where the voluble sounds are coming from. When I spot the ambulance's red, white and blue lights illuminating the street, it feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted off my chest. I shake Peeta a little and he wakes up. "Help's finally here," I mutter.

His eyes light up at the mention of the word 'here'. He looks up at me and flashes me his smallest of smiles, as if saying _thank you._

_ No, thank you, _I think. _Thank you for not giving up on me, Peeta Andrew Mellark._

The medics quickly prep their equipment and steer out the stretcher, positioning it by the wrecked automobile. I step out of the scene and stand by my Mom who's sitting a few feet away from the car. I watch the incident progress and flinch at the sight of Peeta painfully trying to unbuckle his seatbelt from its latch. I could feel my eyes brim with tears again when I hear Peeta's cries for help. "Help me! Get me outta here! Help! Anybody? Help!"His voice is frantic, anxious, worried, and thick with emotion. "I can't feel my legs! Please! Help me!"He barely shouts the last two words.

My floodgates open yet again when he shouts for my name, his voice raspy. "Katniss please! Where are you? Katniss!"

_He needs me._

I run my way to him – slush splashing underneath my feet – as fast as I could, but one paramedic stops me, his broad shoulders and huge frame blocking my view of Peeta's. "NO! Let me GO!" I scream at him, trying to free myself from his heavy grasp, wriggling my way out of it, but it is of no use. So I break down, leaning myself to the medic's bulky physique. "Please...please," I sob, "Please just let him out. He _needs help. He's dying." _My throat hitches up at the last word. _Dying. _

"We're trying, miss," he responds comfortingly. "The fire trucks are on their way, they have the equipment to cut off the car door. We'll get him out of here in no time," he looks down at me and smiles kindly. Me. Me with streaks of black mascara running down my cheeks. Me with the red, puffy, almost like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer nose. Me with the bloodshot pair of eyes that desperately is in need of sleep and rest. Me with a little-to-less string of hope that Peeta will come back to me somehow. Me. Katniss Everdeen. Me. Who loves Peeta Andrew Mellark so much. So, so much.

I can't believe it took two years for me to realize it. And a fatal car accident that could most likely kill him.

Mom walks to me and guides me back to where we were standing a while ago. She whispers "sorry" to the paramedic, to where he just shrugs and responds "happens every time, no problem."

Not more than five minutes later, I hear another set of sirens blaring around my street and a loud honking sound following it. I look up from Mom's shoulder and see a red fire truck make its way to us. The firemen quickly go to work as they carry a huge wrench-like piece of equipment and cut away Peeta's car door. After an arduous three minutes, they finally slash away the crushed car door and take Peeta out cautiously. Peeta's whimpers and cries yet again echo around the neighbourhood as the medics – five of them – carefully walk towards the stretcher and lay him down there, watchfully turning him to one side. It is obvious that they're having problems with pivoting him to the other side – him facing me – because the stretcher doesn't have enough space for it to be considered a 'flat ground', so to speak. I watch them as they check his neck, making sure he doesn't have a neck injury. And then they feel his back carefully. _Checking for any spinal injuries, _I think. When they finish, one medic sighs, huffs out a breath and runs his hand over his hair. _This is not good. _Next, they move on to his legs. They prick his butt, starting from below and working upwards. They ask Peeta if he feels any sensation on his leg as they tap his kneecaps. _Knee jerk reflex. _He shakes his head; his face scrunched up in worry and is on the verge of tears. He asks them something, but I find it undecipherable. In response, one of the lady medics push Peeta's blonde curls back and touches his cheek, and gives him a meek headshake.

And this is the first time I see Peeta Andrew Mellark completely and utterly break down in front of me.

They do several other tests on his legs. Ones that I've no knowledge of, but am vaguely familiar with. I would know; I work as a volunteer in one of the hospitals in the City. Examples of the tests are the penile reflex, and the anal wink reflex. After having done all the necessary tests and methods, they lay Peeta back in the stretcher. One medic wedges his head in between rolled up sheets of blankets. And all of the five medics cautiously wheel Peeta into the ambulance, careful not to move him violently.

I hurry after them, but Mom holds me back. "We'll use the car, we'll follow them," she says. I drop my head down, nodding slightly. And, akin to the robot that I am, follow Mom sullenly – my mechanical legs trudge through the slush, my perfunctory hands limply hanging on my sides. When Mom looks behind her, she sees me and lets out a soft gasp and decides to half-carry me all the way to the house. I feel sorry for her, my Mom, but I can't just make myself move. I'm a robot. I can't do anything by myself. And I hate me for it.

When we get into the house, the warm air greets me, and I slightly feel better. I watch Mom walk to the back door while I slump myself into the comforts of our couch – where Peeta sat just a few minutes ago – and curl myself into a fetal position, hugging two pillows close to me. Dad walks up to me, cradling Prim in his arms, and kisses the top of my head. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he whispers. I vaguely shake my head, too tired to say anything, and let myself rock back and forth in my position. Dad sits down by me; as he feeds Prim her newly made bottle of milk. He doesn't say anything; he just rocks Prim to sleep.

When Prim finally shuts her eyes and goes into a deep slumber, I clear my throat to speak. "She likes him," I mutter to Dad, who is almost drifting off to sleep now too.

He wakes up suddenly and turns to face me. "Pardon me, sweetie?"

"She likes him. Peeta, I mean," I repeat, and I pretend to cough just so I wouldn't cry again.

"Oh...," he responds. And just then I hear Mom honking in front of the house.

I kiss Prim's little forehead and Dad's cheek as I make my way out the door and into Mom's car.

* * *

We get to the hospital just in time to see Peeta being wheeled into the Operating Room. I scurry up to him and grab his hands. He's asleep, but when he felt my hands encasing his, he immediately opens his eyes and looks shocked. He looks so pale, like a ghost. Like every ounce of blood in his body has been drained from him. When he sees that it's just me, his gaze softens. "Hey," he murmurs.

"Hey," I mutter back, and smile at him. A small, reassuring smile.

He mirrors my smile, and tugs something off from his neck. A gold disk hanging from a chain around his neck. He looks at it for a moment, and he puts it in my palm. "That's yours, now," he croaks. "I just wanted to give you something before–"

"NO," I say firmly, lump forming in my throat, gripping his hand. "You're not gonna die, I forbid it, alright?"

He sighs heavily. "I know, but just in case–"

"No. No. No. Don't be a wuss. Fight. Don't quit. You never quit. Don't even try to give up," I utter, voice shaking. "You still need to give me that painting you did, remember?"

He chuckles lightly and nods his head, "Bry can gi–"

"DON'T!" I cry, "Just please...don't. Just don't. Please."

His eyes widen in shock, but returns to its normal size once he realizes I'm serious. "Okay, Katniss. I'm sorry, Katniss."

Something about the way he says my name makes me...melt. It's just so loving and tender and affectionate. It's so..._him. _And I know I shouldn't be too wound up on things like these, but at this time, I can't help but cry again. It's just too much for me. _Damn it, Katniss! Hold your shit together! _

He sees me crying and he holds out his other hand to me. I bend down a little lower to him just so he could touch me, but he barely even cups my cheek before his hand drops down to his side. He whimpers in pain, holding a spot on the left part of his chest, just below his heart. _Oh no._

"Peeta?" I call him, panicking. "Peeta, I'm right here. Shh, you'll be fine." I push back strands of his blonde curls. After a few moments, he calms down and relaxes a bit.

"That...hurt...so...much," he claims, voice shaking.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," I snivel. "You'll be fine soon though, don't worry, okay?"

He flashes me a curt smile as the doctors and nurses walk their way to where we are, and responds, "Okay."

"And...Peeta?"

"Yes, Katniss?" He responds lovingly.

"Stay with me?" I ask, tears brimming on my eyes yet again.

He beams at me as if I'm some shiny object he just saw at the mall. He stays that way for a few more seconds before answering me:

"Always."

* * *

**A/N:**** Thank you guys for your overwhelming response to this story! I hope I haven't been boring you with this. **

**Now, some not-so-good news: I'll be going on a hiatus for I don't know how long yet, mainly because my family and I are going on a vacation, partly because I kind of need to take a break from this. I don't know, my brain's all slushy right now, maybe because it's summer. But no worries, I won't leave this story for granted, I just need to take a break. I hope you guys don't give up on this story just yet. There will be more to come! **

**So...yes, I'll see you guys soon and have a great summer vacation! xo**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Well, just a little treat for you guys since you've been really, very, abso-posi-lutely (haha) amazing readers! This is just like a filler chapter though, well, kind of. SO, I won't bore you with a lengthy A/N, enjoy!

* * *

**KATNISS' POV**

* * *

Peeta's family and his three buddies – Cato, Marvel and Finnick come bounding in the emergency room just moments after Peeta is wheeled in to the operating room. When they see me, their faces are painted with mixed emotions: sadness, anger, guilt and relief - but mostly relief. Peeta's mother scurries her way to me and envelopes me in a tight hug. This surprises me, because at first I thought she would slap me hard across the face for doing this to her son. She whispers something into my ear, but I don't quite catch it, so I just nod. We stay that way for a few minutes, until she pulls out of the hug and sits down in a chair closest to the waiting room door.

I decide to sit beside her and awkwardly rub her back comfortingly, and apologize.

Her head is still hung down, but she responds by nodding her head slightly.

It's not that it's _my fault _entirely, but I still felt the need to apologize to her; because it's unfortunate that it so happened to have came about after he visited me at home. And helped me with babysitting Prim. And made me realize how much of a dickwad Gale is. And comforted me when I needed someone to confide my problems to. And made me feel special because he felt the need to make me. And made me realize I love him more than life itself. That I've been blinded by Gale's cockiness and empty promises, his extraordinary beauty and his way with words (in a bad way). I've never regretted doing something more than I've regretted going out with Gale. It was - still is so _wrong._

Now I understand how it feels when people say: "You'll absolutely regret it in the end."

Oh God. Now I have to break up with him.

_But how?_

No. I wouldn't dwell on anything Gale-related right now.

* * *

Five hours. Five grueling, brutal, nerve-wracking hours pass by after Dr. Castro - Peeta's surgeon, comes out of the operating room and delivers the news to us. Mrs. Everdeen, Mr. Everdeen, Bryce, Nicollo, and I are the only ones left in the hospital after Cato, Marvel, Finnick and Mom decided to go home and take a rest. Mom – and Mrs. Everdeen – tried to persuade me into going home and getting some sleep, but I'm having none of it. I need to see him after the surgery – dead or alive.

"Mellark family?" Dr. Castro pronounces, and Mrs. Mellark jerks her head up to look at the doctor. Her look surprises me; eyes so red, so full of fresh, salty tears. The bags just under her eyes are very prominent – the purplish color making their existence known. And her voice – hoarse, tired, dead-beat, and worried.

I could only imagine how she feels right now. Probably a hundred times worse than how I do.

"Yes, doctor?" She answers him, her voice quivering. I can't even look at her. She looks so..._broken._

Dr. Castro sighs. "Please call me Pat. Listen, I have some good news..." everybody in the room breathes a collective sigh of relief, "and some bad news," he trails on. All of us look at each other in panicked expressions; the tension is building up again. "What do you want to hear first?" He asks nobody in particular.

A short, bone-chilling silence ensues.

Mr. Mellark clears his throat to break the silence, and answers the doctor, "bad news. Bad news first."

Dr. Castr- _Pat_ nods and takes a few steps toward us who are now huddled in a somewhat group hug. Mr. Mellark and Mrs. Mellark are on either side of me, comfortingly rubbing my back as if assuring me that everything's going to be alright. I flash them a small smile in gratitude, reciprocating their actions and rubbing their backs comfortingly as well.

I just really wish they're right.

After a few seconds of agonizing silence, Dr. Castro speaks up.

"Peeta...his heart stopped beating twice."

I gasp and can feel my knees buckle underneath me, turning it to jelly. My heart starts thumping uncontrollably in my chest, and can feel my salty tears trickle down my face. I extract myself out of Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's grasps and take a seat on one of the benches where I just sat before. _This can't be happening, _I tell myself. _He's not dead._

And then I remember he isn't. _His heart stopped beating twice, _the doctor said. _Stopped. _He's alive. I can pull through this. He still has some good news.

Mrs. Mellark sits beside me and asks me if I'm OK, and I nod mutely in answer. She gives me a quick hug, and tells Dr. Castro he could continue.

Dr. Castro gives a small cough and continues. "He had a splenic rupture, and had a very, _very _prominent tear in his spleen..." He exhales a small huff of air. I can tell it isn't easy for him to deliver the news. "And so we...decided that because he did have a severe rapture and the bleeding can't be controlled, the best procedure that could help his case greatly was to perform a surgery called Splenectomy."

My heart sinks to my stomach. Was his accident really _that_ fatal? I recall the things that happened just a few hours ago, and try to picture the surroundings, but I can't. My brain is clouded with other things that make me want to curl up in a ball and just cry.

Dr. Castro goes on and on about what Splenectomy is but I tune him out. I already know what it is. I don't need any reminding of it.

They took his spleen out, in layman's terms.

I snap out of my reverie once I hear Pat talking about Peeta's hip injury. His brows are furrowed in worry and concentration. He talks about how Peeta's hip was badly damaged, and that he needed another surgery – a total hip replacement surgery.

"Those are the bad news," Dr. Castro finally says.

At the news of his son's current condition, Mrs. Mellark breaks down yet again and puts her head on her hands, sobbing quietly. Mr. Mellark kneels down in front of her, rubbing small circles in her back. _It's gonna be okay, Suz, _he reassures her. But his voice doesn't sound very convincing.

We all know things won't go back to the way they used to after this.

"How long's the recovery for his spleen gonna be?" Nicollo asks finally. I forgot he was with us all this time.

"Well, in Peeta's case – which was laparoscopic splenectomy, hospitalization is usually less than a week," Pat answers. "And complete healing might take about four to six weeks."

Nicollo breathes out a sigh, "how about his hip?"

"We would perform a total hip replacement after his spleen heals completely."

"So after a month and a half?" I ask Pat.

"I'm afraid so, yes."

"How would he go to school? What's gonna happen with him during that month and a half of waiting?" I cry out.

This is absurd. This is _not _going anywhere good. How could there be good news after _that?_

But before Dr. Castro answers my question, Bryce carefully holds my shoulders and escorts me out of the waiting room. I didn't even realize I was crying the whole time – not until Bry's grip made me realize I was shaking.

"You think he's gonna be okay?" He asks me finally when we get to a spot near a water fountain, I could hear him sniffling.

"He will. I know he will. He's a fighter, that one," I respond, looking at Peeta's older brother. He looks just like Peeta – his eyes and his blonde tufts of hair are uncanny to his younger brother's features.

Seeing this, I can't help but break down again. Bryce holds me close to him and envelopes me in a hug.

He just nods his head in response. "I know he is."

A long pause is shared, and then he finally decides to break the silence.

"He loves you, you know," he says.

My throat dries up like sandpaper and my hands shake at the thought. My stomach feels like it's been filled with a million butterflies and my head feels slightly woozy at his confession. I've actually wondered about how Peeta felt about me, it's just that every time I let it get through my head, I quickly shake it off. I've always known in my heart that I felt _something _towards Peeta, I just didn't know – couldn't point out what it was. But now, just recently, I finally know what it is – love.

And so I clear my throat to answer – "I know, Bryce."

"You do?" He asks, clearly shocked.

"Yes." I nod my head. "Because I feel the same way about him, too."

* * *

**THIRD PERSON POV**

He's lying on his bed, playing with his phone. He can't manage to get any sleep – it evades him. He patiently waits for his buddy's response. He could not believe he did what he did last night. It was _so _wrong, yet it felt _so right_. He quickly steals a glance at the LED clock; it reads 3:30 am. It's been five minutes since his last reply. He grows nervous. _What if he told them what he did? What if he showed it to them? What if? _His mind is suddenly bombarded with questions of _what ifs_.

But he thought to himself, _no, he wouldn't do that. I'd tell them about his involvement too. And then we'll both go down._

And he smirks his signature charming smirk.

So he waits, and waits, and waits. Finally, at 3:45 am on the dot, he receives a call from his buddy.

"Hey," he answers. "So, how much do I get?"

"Don't rush," his buddy says on the other line. "You sure nobody saw you? Nobody saw the plate number?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Good job, you sure you didn't kill him?" The guy on the other line asks.

"No, hell no!"

"I'm just checking."

"Jesus, do you think I'd have the guts to kill my friend?"

"No. I'm sure you don't, he's still your friend," the guy on the other line chuckles.

"To hell he is!"

"You wanna meet up soon?"

He becomes excited. "Yeah, of course. Where?"

"Local mall. Saturday. 3:30 sharp."

"In the afternoon?" He asks dumbly.

"Of course, you dumbass," retorts the guy on the other line.

This makes him chuckle, "alright, see you there. Nice doing business with you, Gale."

"Likewise, Cato."

And then they both hang up.

* * *

**A/N:** HOLY ISH! This ain't good! Haha, so anyway, my hiatus starts now (for real). I will be back soon! I promise! And I hope you won't give up with this story yet! bye bye for now! (:


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I'm so very sorry for making you wait for so long, guys! But here's a chapter for you, and I hope you like it! (Reviews will be greatly appreciated!)

* * *

Only two days after the accident and already the news has been spread like wildfire. People from our school – the ones in our grade especially – and some from other schools express their sympathies and well-wishes on social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook. Peeta's close friends and teammates from basketball and wrestling write on his Facebook wall, saying, _"Peeta, pull through this, man, I know you can," _or stuff like, _"man, if you survive this I swear I'll buy you a truckload of cheeseburgers. So you better, alright? See you at school soon, alright?" _ But the one message that particularly struck me was, _""A bend in the road is not the end of the road... unless you fail to make the turn' – Author unknown. Better make the turn now, Peet. It's not too late, it's never too late. I love you. Please pull through this." _I check who the sender was, and as soon as I do, feel a pang of jealousy and anger towards the girl. Her name is familiar, and her face, too. I usually see her at school with a group of girls walking silently on the hallways during breaks. She has a long blonde hair and is skinny – but not very skinny, skinny as in like she plays sports skinny, _fit_. She's pretty, too. Judging by her profile picture, she has a pair of blue eyes, very much like Peeta's, and not only that: she's tan, too.

_Delly Cartwright._

I know I absolutely have no reason and right to feel this way about Delly's relationship with Peeta - _you've got a boyfriend you dipshit!_ I keep telling myself that I have a boyfriend and that my relationship with Peeta is no more than a friendship, but after what happened to him – and us – these past few days, I'm confused.

Because yes – I admitted to myself, and Peeta's brother, Bryce, that I love him. I really do. But do I love him _that _way? Or was I just blabbering?

Then my mind backtracks to mine and Peeta's conversation two days ago. _Has it only been two days? It feels much, much longer than that. _I told him – confessed to him about my rocky relationship with Gale: How he mindlessly went to a bar with his friends a few weeks back, how he went smoking who knows what with whores outside the bar, and how I told him that I saw what he did the day after, but he just laughed it off. Throughout all of this, Peeta just listened and nodded a few times, and when I finished, he said something I never thought in my life he would: "You deserve better than that twat." I was genuinely surprised when he told me this, and relieved, as well. Surprised because Peeta was never one to talk about other people like that, or so I thought. Relieved because he _did _say something about the situation, about Gale. It was refreshing. Other people usually tell me to just shrug it off, to move on with it because Gale is a guy – and apparently, guys do stuff like that all the time.

But not my Peeta.

Wait – _my _Peeta? Where the hell did that come from? Where did I get the sudden feeling of possessiveness over him? He's not _mine, _per se, but this time I'd really much like to imagine that he is; that we're together and Gale's out of the picture. His strong and muscled arms fully wrapped around my waist, hugging me tight but lovingly. His beautiful pair of blue eyes stares admiringly at me, and I melt in his tender and warm gaze. His strong and sturdy chest is where I lay my head, and I hear the soft thumping of his heart. His beautiful way with words will make me fall more deeply in love with him, if that is even possible.

But it isn't real, of course. I'm fantasizing (although I would very much like it to be true.) The reality is that the scenario is flipped. I'm with Gale, and Peeta... well Peeta's out of the picture.

I guess the odds aren't exactly in my favour.

I snap out of my beautiful-turned-disastrous trance when I hear Peeta shuffling in his bed. I close my laptop shut and I half-walk, half-jog rather excitedly my way to him by the bed. This is the first time he woke up since his Splenectomy, and because his hip isn't fixed yet, they had to temporarily restrain him so he doesn't move too much – and prevent the possibility of him fracturing his hip further.

I grip his hand gently, and he slightly flinches at the contact. His eyelids flutter open and a huge grin breaks out on my face when, there they are, finally staring at me, his exquisite pair of blue eyes. They lack the vibrant light that they always had, but they're staring at me nonetheless.

I've never felt my heart thump excitedly like this, and my stomach flutter with a million butterflies I could actually feel them filling up to my throat, and my eyes well up with millions of gallons of tears.

But damn it. This, for sure, is the happiest I have ever felt in my entire life.

"Hey, Katniss," he finally whispers. His voice is barely audible and hoarse – mainly because he was out for two days. He smiles up at me, his luscious lips upturned just slightly, barely showing any teeth at all.

"Hey," I respond, and the tears that have been welled up in my eyes are falling freely now. "How are you?" My voice is shaking – but in a good way.

I'm just so, so happy he came back.

He closes his eyes and draws in a few breaths before saying, "I'm good. I mean I don't feel this searing pain in my chest anymore," and then he smiles, "I guess the painkillers did their jobs very well, huh? What with knocking me off for—"

"Two days," I correct.

"Right, knocking me off for two days and taking the pain off is incredible," he grins. "Don't you think?"

My breathing hitches and my heart drops to my stomach. I feel myself frown at his words. He doesn't know about his Splenectomy yet. _Of course he doesn't, you nimrod! _I argue with myself – mentally tossing reasons back and forth – if I should or should not tell him about it. But after a few minutes, I decide it would be better if the doctor told him directly, and so I change the subject. "You want me to call your parents? The doctor?" I ask.

The sudden change of subject and my hesitation surprises him – it's obvious because his eyebrows are lifted in a questioning manner. "No. No, not yet. Are you okay, Katniss?" And then he frowns.

Damn it. Of course, leave it to Peeta to switch the situation around and worry about me when _he's _the one who's _in _obvious pain. "I'm okay, Peeta, don't worry about me." I laugh softly, "I mean, have you seen yourself lately?"

He smiles, "Okay, and no. Do I still look good?"

I snort at this, he's such a dork. I'm so happy he's this way though, because he's going back to normal. I missed him so much. "Don't worry, your hair's still blonde," I tell him, and put my two thumbs up.

His smile is still plastered on his face, and he tries to tousle his hair, but I stop him. "No, don't move. Your hip's not fixed yet."

He lets out a frustrated grunt, "This sucks big time."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Oh no, don't be. It's my fault for being so stupid, anyway." There goes the typical Peeta, always blaming himself for things he isn't responsible doing.

"Do you... remember anything from that night?"

"Not... really. I mean I remember these two bright flashes of light before the collision, that's about it."

"And after that?"

He seems to ponder about it for a moment, "Oh, I remember you calling for an ambulance."

"And... that's it?"

"I remember giving you my necklace, too."

"Oh, right. That." I snatch the golden necklace from my pocket and hand it to him, but he frowns. "Why? What's wrong?"

"That's yours now, remember? I gave it to you." He seems hurt with my actions, and I quickly put the necklace back in my pocket.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't do that," he says.

I'm confused,"Do what?"

"Apologize every time. Nothing of this is your fault, Katniss. Don't pity yourself."

His response sends shockwaves throughout my body. What does he mean by that? I don't pity myself. I'm just concerned about him, that's all. "What do you mean?" I ask him, my voice an octave higher than normal.

He heaves a long, aggravated sigh. "I mean, don't blame yourself for things that aren't your fault. For things that happened to me. Just don't, okay? And what are you doing here, anyway? You need to go home, Katniss. You need to rest. I'll be fine here." He seems so calm.

And because of his demeanour, I feel myself grow angrier at him. He doesn't know me. "What do you mean I blame myself for things that happened to you? I'm not, alright? The thing is, Peeta, I'm just concerned about you, that's all there is! We're friends, remember? Friends tend to take care of each other!" I'm crying again, _damn it._ "Do you know how hard it is to see you like this? Huh? You have _no _idea how hard it is to see you like this – in pain and just... I can't! You have .idea!"

"Then don't take care of me!" He shouts, "Don't, alright? If it hurts you to see me this way, just don't take care of me! Just go back to Gale or something; I have my friends here to take care of me, my family."

"Why'd you have to put Gale into this? He didn't do anything to you!"

"He did! He did something!"

"What? What the hell did he do to you, huh Peeta? What? Tell me!" I retort.

"He took you away from me! I love you! I always have! Do you have any idea how it feels to see someone you love be with someone else?" He snaps. "And when you told me about what happened between you and Gale a few weeks back, I felt so angry at myself because I could've protected you from him!"

I am stunned. His confession isn't what I expected at all.

"I do! I fucking know! Just now, Peeta! I know how it feels now."

He stops for a moment and looks at me, "What do you mean?"

"I checked your Facebook wall and I saw Delly wrote something for you."

"...And?"

"She said she loves you, she _loves _you, you asshole!"

His voice is calmer now, "Katniss... where are you going with this?"

"I'm _jealous, _okay? You get that now? I'm fucking jealous! Of her, of your relationship _with _her, of everything _about _her, okay? Just... ugh!"

He giggles at my response, "Katniss..."

"Why the fuck are you laughing?"

"Because I don't know where you're going with this, although I have a vague idea."

"I'm jealous of Delly Cartwright aka Miss Perfect! It's as easy as that; it's not rocket science, Peeta!"

"And you're jealous of her because?"

I heave a long sigh, "Didn't I already tell you, Peeta? I don't want to start all over again!"

"Why are you jealous of my relationship with her?" He seems to be enjoying this, the jerk. _Ugh, just tell him, Katniss, you coward!_

"Because..."

"Because?"

"BecauseIloveyousomuchithurts ," I stumble on my words, I don't really care if he understood it or not. The important thing is that I let my feelings out, and man does it feel so good.

Peeta pauses for a moment, and he lets my words sink in. It feels like hours when he does, but it's only for a few seconds. And then he lights up like a light bulb. "You... do?" The huge childish grin on his face tells it all: he's happy.

I mirror his smile, "Yes, Peeta. But Delly's with you—"

"Delly's not my girlfriend, Katniss. Why would I even go to your house if I had one?"

I think about this, and his reasoning seems rational. "I don't know, I mean she said she loves you..."

"Delly's my best friend, Katniss," he says with his grin still plastered on his stupid beautiful face, "we do stuff like that all the time. Check her wall."

Relief washes over me after what he said, and then shame. Complete, utter shame I could feel my cheeks burn red. "Oh..." is all I could manage to say.

"If it helps, she has a boyfriend."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she's going out with a guy from another school. Seems like a great guy. I'm happy for them."

I pull a chair and sit down by the bed, "I'm sorry, for going off on you." And then I hear my phone ring, "Hold on a sec, I think it's my mom."

He nods in response.

"Hey mom," I answer.

_"Katniss, I'm gonna pick you up at 7, okay?"_ She says on the other line.

"Okay mom, thanks." And I hang up.

"What was that about?" Peeta asks.

"Oh, she just told me she's gonna pick me up at seven."

"Ah."

"Yup." I pop the "P" in the end.

"So..." he starts. Well, this is going to be awkward.

"So..." I mimic him. "You want me to call your parents?"

"Nope, not yet. I'll tell you when. For now, I just want to cherish this alone time with you."

Usually, I find that statement to be cheesy, but when Peeta said it, I feel butterflies flutter in my stomach. "Me, too."

He smiles at me again, making my heart melt like butter on a frying pan. If that alone can elicit such great emotions out of me, I don't even know what'll happen if he envelopes me in a hug. I'll probably faint. Yup, most likely.

"What's gonna happen to us? How about Gale?" He asks in a serious tone.

I haven't really thought about the concept of _us, _as in Peeta and me. I don't even want to talk about Gale yet, it's going to spoil the moment. But I realize it's better to talk about it sooner than later, so I respond, "I'm going to break up with him, you said so yourself, didn't you?" I tease.

"Ah, yes. The memory's vague but it's there." He laughs.

"You're such a dork," I say.

"Better that than to be an asshole," he responds.

"That's so true."

"Come'ere," he says.

"...Why?"

"Just... come, please?"

I motion to his bed, leaning down on him, my face just inches - hovering over his.

And then, he whispers the four words I have so wanted to hear from him for so long.

"I love you, Katniss."

The butterflies in my stomach won't seem to stop fluttering, I'm afraid I might even vomit them out. But I manage to blurt out the five words in response to his confession.

"I love you too, Peeta."

* * *

**A/N:** Woohoo! Great success for Peeta (and Katniss!) I am so very sorry for holding this chapter off for too, too long (my brain's still on vacation mode). But hey, there's a chapter for ya! Don't worry guys, there will still be a lot happening after this one (although let me just say that I'm just so happy I got to write this chapter because I really had no idea how to write Katniss' confession to Peeta before, so YAY! Everything will be smooth sailing from here on out) so stay tuned! (: Thank you for being so patient with me, guys! Means a whoooole lot! (:

**A/N:** Also, I'm so very sorry about the medical inaccuracies, I don't really have any idea about how they restrain someone in bed before a major hip surgery, (I'm still a noob) so please bear with me. Thank you! (: P.S., The Hunger Games DVD is out NOW! Go buy it! (LOL!)


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Wasn't expecting a speedy (kinda) update, weren't you? Well TA-DA! Surprise! Okay, this chapter is in Peeta's POV all the way through, and... this story has an M rating for a reason. I won't bore you with this, so enjoy! (:

* * *

**4 weeks later...**

"Good news, my boy!" Dr. Castro exclaims from outside my room. I immediately wake up from my slumber and turn my attention to him, who's now standing by my bed. His smile is so wide and happy it's infectious, and I can feel my heart thump ten times faster than normal because I know his 'good news' is terrific news for me. I patiently wait for him to say something, but instead he plays around and decides to prolong my agony by sipping some OJ from my breakfast tray. Not that I mind, I never liked OJs to begin with. And then he pulls up the chair closest to my bed, all set and ready to talk. "Where're your parents? Your brothers?" He asks.

"They're all at work," I respond. "What's up, Pat?" My excitement's growing thinner by the minute.

"Shame on them for missing this," he says, giddy. "But we could always call them afterward." I eye him excitedly, not leaving my sight on him. "How about your girlfriend? Where is she?" He really likes doing this. Ugh.

I heave a long, defeated sigh. "If you're talking about Katniss, she's at school; she doesn't get out until four. And she's not my girlfriend, at least not yet." I pause and ponder on my next words. "She's... single, but let's just say that her heart's taken," with this response, I smile and laugh a little. It's so fucking cheesy, but it's true she isn't my girlfriend; well technically she is, since she broke up with Gale a few weeks back. She never really likes to talk about it, and I understand. But there are some rumours going around on Twitter that she saw him at a bar downtown kissing another girl. When I heard of this, my blood flared up. How could he be so dumb? Why would he do this to her? He's lucky he actually got to spend time with her! To _be _with her! I wanted to punch him in the face and kick him in the balls for doing that to Katniss. No one _should ever _do that to her. They have _no right._

And so I told myself to not let her down or hurt her in _any _way, because if I do, I wouldn't forgive myself for it.

Anyway, going back to the 'girlfriend' concept, we spend dinner almost every night together. That doesn't really account for 'dating', per se, but at least it counts for something else, right?

Dr. Castro eyes me suspiciously, "you are such a coward, Peeta. I mean you're a brave boy when it comes to stuff like this... you know, hospital stuff," he says, waving his hands conspicuously around me, "but when it comes to her? Man, you're a zero," he says.

I can't help but laugh at his comment, "I know, man. It's just... I've been in love with her my whole life and I was happy about being in the sidelines. I'm just not used to this yet, I mean I still can't believe I won her over, you know? I still feel like I'm dreaming." He nods. "Can you pinch me, Pat?" I smile. He obliges. "OW! I didn't mean for you to actually do it, you evil man!"

"Hey, I'm your doctor; I would do whatever it takes to make you happy!" He responds, holding his hands up in mock surrender. I like Pat, he's not like other stereotypical doctors who just force-feed me whatever medicine they think I need and just go about their business afterward. He actually _talks _to me. He's a great guy; he's like my doctor-slash-psychologist-slash-best friend. I practically tell him everything about my life; he's been my buddy since I woke up four weeks ago. "Just don't ask for me to buy you a new car because that's way out of my budget. Sorry about that, kid."

I frown. Right. As it is already obvious, my car was totaled in the accident. My parents told me about it a few days after I regained consciousness, and they were apologizing profusely for it. Did I get mad about it? Of course I got mad about it, but what could I do? It was my fault for being so careless on the road, so in a way, I guess that's kind of my lesson. Mom and Dad told me that they couldn't afford another one, what with the bakery closing and all, and that my insurance was to be doubled if we took it to be repaired, so I decide to just let go of my car. It was – still is painful to think about, but things like this happen to people, it was just so unfortunate and untimely for it to happen to me. "S'okay, doc," I respond. "I guess it's punishment for me being reckless on the road. Although it still pains me to think about it, so... can we talk about something else? Like your good news for example?" I beam at him. The car is the least of my worries now, because if you weigh it over your life, then you're stupid. Sure I can buy another car in the future but my life — when I lose it, I can never take it back. Sentimentalization and prioritizing are important factors to living a very good life, kids.

Pat chuckles at my impatience, he's been dragging the news for too long and he seems to be enjoying it. "Well, my boy, remember when I told you that you needed a total hip replacement surgery?"

"...Yes? What about it?" I gulp nervously, I don't really know where he's going with this, but I have to roll with the program.

"And do you remember I told you it would take a month and a half or two before the surgery?" A smirk is beginning to trace on his lips. This is getting good.

"...Yeees?" I gape at him wide-eyed.

"Well good news my boy because you can have the surgery now!" He practically shouted it so the whole hospital hallway could hear. He's standing up now, arms spread open, as if going in for a hug.

I can't believe the news I just heard, "So, you mean... my spleen is good now? I mean, not my spleen but... I'm healed?!" I squeak. I feel like a little boy who just got his favorite toy for Christmas, all excited and jumpy. "You mean..." I trail off, I'm speechless. This is the best news I've heard since I got here, well, maybe except for when I learned of the news that Katniss broke up with Gale, but you know what I mean.

"Yes, m'boy! You're okay now! Well, at least your non-existent spleen is!" He jokes and exclaims excitedly. "I can't believe how much of a trooper you are, I rarely see cases like yours. People usually heal about two months or so after, but yours is a miracle!" He guffaws. "I guess the bed rest and man-to-man talks helped, huh?" He's still laughing.

I can't help but laugh with him, too. "Yeah! They really helped me heal a lot! I guess the medicines didn't actually do anything, did they?"

Pat's laughter is echoing in the halls now, a nurse even tells us to tone it down a little. But what can you do to calm down a doctor and a patient who just shared some good news with each other? Nothing, you can't do anything about it. _You absolutely can't!_

"So, what's next?" I ask him. I'm still in high spirits so I practically shouted my question at him.

"Well, we'll tell your parents about it, and then we'll go from there." He responds.

"And then after that?"

"You'll be in physical therapy; you know to get accustomed to your hip and stuff."

I wrinkle my nose at his response, "How long will it take me?"

"You mean the therapy?" I nod. "About six months."

I breathe out a huff of air, "Wow, that's a very long time. And after my therapy, can I go play sports again?"

He furrows his brows, as if thinking of an answer, "Well, you _can _do light sports like table tennis and stuff after a year..." he pauses for a bit to look at me, "but I highly suggest that you don't, at least not for a couple of years. Sorry, Peet."

My breathing hitches, "_No _sport? But that's like my oxygen, Pat! I can't do without sports!" I am genuinely disappointed and in denial by the news.

"I know, son. But it'll only be for a couple of years, and then after that you can do whatever you want." He pauses again, "Hey, think about that as a blessing in disguise, Peeta. What if this happened for a reason?"

I shrug and scoff, "The reason being?"

"I... I don't know, maybe so you could focus more on your academics."

I laugh at this. A genuine laugh because I find it really funny, "So you're saying I'm not smart? Gee, thanks Pat! What a very supportive doctor you are!"

He chuckles, "Well, no. I believe you're a smart boy. What're you taking?"

"For college?"

He shakes his head, laughing. "No, for dinner. Yes, for college, you nimrod!"

"Well I'm sorry mister smarty pants you didn't clarify your question! Ha. I'm planning on becoming a surgeon, like you."

"Ah. Great choice. But you have to be very, very patient and you have to work your ass off every second of your college life because Med School is very grueling, my boy. You understand me?"

I nod my head yes. I've never really thought about the load of Med School itself, but now that Pat has told me an overview of it, I'm beginning to feel the pressure. "Thanks for the advice, Pat."

"No worries, boy. If you need anything, any help at all about Med School, just give me a call, alright?"

See that? Now _that _is what I call a great doctor. "For sure I will, thanks, doctor."

"Eh, call me Pat. I'm growing tired of being called that, to be honest."

"Why? You've only been a doctor for ten years; surely it feels good to be called that. Heck, I'd kill to be called a doctor."

"I don't know, kid. I've never really regarded this as my job. I mean, helping people is what I've always been passionate about. Having this as a career? Nah, never thought of it that way. I do this because I love it, not because I've been forced to do it— does that make sense? Or was it all bla bla bla bla bla to you?"

I smile at him. "Yeah, it does." And then it occurs to me that he's one of the coolest doctors I've met in my entire life.

"Good. And here's some advice, my boy: If you're passionate about something, go for it. Because believe me, it won't feel like you're working at all. You won't feel any stress from it." He winks.

"Huh. Being a surgeon? No stress? Don't think so. But anyway, thanks for the advice, Pat."

"Trust me on that one, son. And no worries. Listen, I have to go, I need to prep for this surgery I have."

"On what?"

Just then Katniss enters my room, looking as beautiful as ever. But her expression is unreadable.

"Hey," I beam. "How was school?"

She smiles at my concern, "you sound like my mom, Peeta." She pecks me on the cheek, "but it was good, thanks. Hey, Pat!"

"Hello Katniss, good to see you again. This boy here hasn't stopped talking about you since I checked on him an hour ago. Says he misses you so much." He grins.

I think I feel my face burn red with blush, and I open my mouth to talk – "I _did not!_"

She tilts her head and frowns slightly, "so you didn't miss me?" She asks with her puppy eyes staring at me. Damn it, I _hate _when she does that.

Well not really because she looks so adorable. But I hate what it does to me.

I stammer.

"Well, I did... but I didn't – we talked about some other things. I missed you, though."

There. I tend to get so tongue-tied when I talk to Katniss it's getting ridiculous.

And then she smiles, "aawwwwwww, that's so sweet! I missed you, too, you know that?"

And then all of a sudden this manly bravado washes over me like a tide, and I answer, "Of course I do, I mean look at me. It's difficult not to."

And then I wink. At her.

I don't even know why or how I did that.

But Katniss plays along, slightly nudges my arm, and says, "Oh it really is," and then she winks.

Pat clears his throat to let his presence known. _Shit, _I forgot he was still in the room. He lifts his eyebrows at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

All of a sudden my bravado vanishes. Pops like a bubble. And then I'm back to the shy Peeta I was a few minutes ago.

It seems like Katniss went back to her normal self too, because she clears her throat and asks Pat, "So what are these "things" you were talking about?"

"Well, it's only a "thing", actually," Pat answers. "I think Peeta regarded it as "things" because it's a really big thing, I guess." His nerdy side is showing. Well he's a doctor, his nerdy side will always show.

Katniss chuckles. She likes Pat, too, she told me about it a few days ago, says he was "too cool to be a doctor."

Part of me agrees, but only a small part. I'd prefer him to be a doctor than be anything else. He was destined for it.

"Okay," she answers, "What's this "thing" that's really big that Peeta regarded it as "things"?"

Fuck. She's so attractive when she does that. Her voice is so sexy I can't even focus on what Pat is saying.

I look at her, her back facing me. She's wearing this long-sleeved v-neck that's tightly hugging her shape. Her curves are so prominent it turns me on. And her voice, holy fuck her voice is so smooth yet it has this certain sexy quality to it I can't exactly pinpoint. And her hair is hung loose. Did I mention how I very much like it when her hair is hung loose?

She's so damn sexy. When did she become so damn sexy?

Wait. She's a cheerleader; she always was and will forever be sexy.

Damn it, Katniss Everdeen, why'd you gotta be sexy as heck, though?

_They get it, Peeta. Katniss is sexy. _

I can't believe I'm having this moment right now. Right here. In my hospital bed, with the doctor in my room. And with Katniss, as well.

I can feel my... _tool _getting harder by the minute, and I know that if I don't move or think fast, one of them is gonna see it.

Or worse, they're _both _gonna see it.

And I am sure as hell I don't want that to happen. That would be the most embarrassing thing that'll ever happen in my life.

So knock on wood they don't see me.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed, but I realize it's no use because I am freaking restrained to it. "Um, guys?"

But they're not listening, Katniss is so engrossed with what Pat is saying and Pat, being the nerdy doctor that he is, tells Katniss everything there is to know about my surgery. Down until what color my underwear would be on the day of my surgery.

Kidding. He wouldn't actually say that.

I hope he didn't.

"Um, guys?" I try again, my voice a little louder now. It worked, because both of them looked at me, Katniss with teary eyes and a wide grin, and Pat with the neutral doctor look.

He scares me with that look sometimes.

"What's up, bud?" He asks.

"I uh... I need to go to the bathroom for a sec," _because I have a hard on, _I think.

Pat furrows his brows, "why? You have tubes on you, you can do your business there."

Damn it, I forgot about that. "I uh... need to... to get something out of my system."

And then suddenly Pat clicks on it and gets it. He's so good at this. He chuckles lightly and calls for a nurse, "oh, of course."

Katniss, on the other hand, starts getting fidgety and concerned. "Are you okay, Peet? Where does it hurt? Pat! You said he was fine!" Her voice is so full of concern.

"Katniss, I'm fine. I love you."

She seems to relax a bit, but not fully. "Ok, are you sure?"

"He'll be fine, Katniss," Pat says. "It's just his body is responding to the... medicine."

Clever son of a bitch he is. I can kiss him right here and then.

"Ok. Just tell me if you feel something, okay?" She pecks my cheek again, causing blood to run down to my... you know what. "I love you, too."

And then the nurses help me with all the stuff that's attached to my body. I didn't realize how many there were until they carefully took it out one by one. And then they help me sit down on the toilet.

And so I do my business here.

I don't remember how long ago I did this last, but it sure feels good to be doing it again.

After five minutes, Katniss knocks on my door to check on me. "I'm fine, sweetheart," I say through the door.

Sweetheart? One second you're this horny teenager who basically is turned on by only a particular girl's voice and then the next you're this smitten lovesick puppy?

What the hell is going on with you, Peeta Mellark?

"Ok, tell me if you're through."

"O...kay, sweethe...art."

I guess it's safe to say that by the time I said "sweetheart" I've finally released the thing that I needed to take out of my system.

I wash my hands, all while still sitting on the toilet. I wash it five times so no one would notice what I did. "I'm finished." I feel like a little kid who just had a dump and needed my parents to wipe my ass and flush the toilet for me.

"Okay, the nurses are coming in."

And the nurses help me get situated in my bed.

Ah. I missed my bed.

"Pat said he needed to go prep for his surgery," she starts. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, he told me about that. And yes, Katniss, I am. I love you."

She blushes. "Stop doing that, you're making me blush."

She's so adorable, "I won't. You're adorable. I love you."

"I love you, too."

And then the phone rings.

Damn it, ruining the moment.

Katniss answers it, and then hands it to me afterward.

"Hello?"

"PEETA! YOU'RE ALIIIIVE!"

"CATO! I AM! HOW ARE YA BUDDY? WHEN ARE YA GONNA VISIT ME, YA TWATS?"

He chuckles on the other line, "tomorrow. We'll visit you tomorrow. We missed you, bud."

"Missed you guys, too. How's wrestling?"

"Eh. Same old, same old. Heard you were going out with Katniss now? Buddy's got some game!" He teases.

"Not... really, but you could say that!" I look at Katniss and smile. "She's perfect."

Katniss smiles back at me.

She really is perfect.

"Smitten little sonuvabitch!" He laughs, "Alright, we'll see you tomorrow, is that good?"

"Yeah, anytime is good! Thanks!"

"No worries, man."

And then we both hang up.

Out of the blue, Katniss says, "I love you so much. I love you."

Now she's making me blush. "Stop doing that, you're making me blush."

She chuckles. "I won't. You're adorable. I love you."

And then I take her hand in mine, kissing the back of it. "I love you, too."

I guess you could say we're really, truly and madly in love with each other.

* * *

**A/N: **Eep! There you go, folks! Another chapter is done! Reviews will be _greatly _appreciated! (:


	15. Author's Note 1

Dear reader(s),

I am so sorry for being MIA these past few weeks. My University life has started and my schedule has been tight-packed ever since. I don't know if I'd be able to update this story anymore because of this reason. And for that—it pains me to say this— I would sadly discontinue this story, and will delete my ff account in a few days as school is my number one priority.

Thank you very much for your feedbacks and support; it was fun while it lasted. I couldn't have done it without you.

-arlf


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